


Arch of the Sky

by LadyMorgaine



Series: Bukhansan Tales [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, JiHan, JunHao - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Soonhoon - Freeform, meanie, namjin - Freeform, taekook, verkwan, yoonmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 168,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/LadyMorgaine
Summary: A pre-debut idol band is in the wrong place in the wrong time, and powers awaken that they didn't exactly want. Exposed to new concepts and a hidden community, they have to chart their way to debut and beyond. Secrets long held are outed, and they have to deal with everything from supernatural hijinks to love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the other works in the Bukhansan Tales universe before this one, or it's not going to make much sense.

Jimin lightly touched foot to the ground in the foyer of the complex, lured there by the odd shield he could feel inside the temple. Wandering over, he tilted his head as he saw Muji sitting in the entryway like a guard, and sunk down in front of his first friend on this earth. The cub had grown so much this last year, and he was already almost as large as his mother. Another year or so, and he’d stand head and shoulders above her at his full adult growth. “Muji-ya,” he crooned as the cub leant in to rub his cheek against Jimin’s, eyes closing at the familiar touch of rough tongue on his cheek.

 

 _You no longer taste of what you were,_ Muji shared with him. _My heart is joyful to have you back again._

 

“Mhm,” Jimin muttered and buried his face in the bright calico fur. “You deserve most of the praise for that. What are you guarding?” He leant away to look into the darkness of the temple, seeing the mother-sister combo sit like graven statues. “Iseul-nim, Seulgi-noona…”

 

 _Jimin-ssi,_ Iseul sent. _You had best come in. There is a boy here that needs you._

 

Frowning, Jimin stood and wandered in. He was surprised to see the three boys from Seventeen there; Jeonghan-ah and Soonyoung-ah was passed out, simply slumped against each other, but Seungkwan-ah lay before an active gate, looking like death warmed over. He wandered closer, crouched down and then looked at the entity on the other side of the gate. She was considerably less luminous to him than she’d be to mortal eyes, but her beauty still defied description, and the realm behind her glowed with power.

 

Despite all that, there was a look of confusion on her face, and sadness on that of the filmy shade behind her.

 

“Bright ones,” he greeted respectfully, stretching his senses into the perimeter of the gate. It yielded easily to him, oddly like warm water rushing over his soul, and the taste in the back of his mind reminded of Seungkwan’s brine-and-sunshine soul.

 

 _One-called-Park-Jimin._ It wasn’t quite speech, not as humans would recognise it. It was song instead, not because the users thought it lovely but because it could carry more information and it did. Worry, pride, slight shock, love, an infinite cluster laid into higher-frequency information that even his mind hurt to understand. _The container is not well._

 

He spared a glance for Seungkwan as the three _shisa_ came to sit behind him in a row. The boy’s complexion was waxy, somehow past delicate into unhealthy pallor. Deeper, deeper he looked, into the confused memories and the ruin of what once was in his mind.

 

“No,” he agreed, feeling piqued and angry. “He is decidedly not well. And his name is Seungkwan.”

 

The shade watched him with lips pressed together, and in her he saw faint resemblances: the high cheekbones and the slant of eyes larger than his. _There will be a hole in his heart,_ she sang, softer, more faded than the other one. _He is precious to my heart, my grandson-of-soul. It was to be choice, not condemnation._ Her hand lifted and a sphere of intricately-curved information formed, spun into effulgent brightness. The sphere slowly floated forward, came through the portal and nestled on Jimin’s outstretched hand.

 

 _This is all I may give him,_ the shade said. _It will soothe and heal, given time. I have no right to demand, but I ask that you watch over him, one-called-Park-Jimin._

 

The other figure held her hands up and a cube of infinite depth formed between her hands, floating out just as the sphere had. _All will be right in the end,_ she sang. _Blessings to you and your mate. We will see you one day. That contains the lock of the gate. We ask that you close it now, until it is needed._

 

Above his hands the sphere and the cube interacted, twisting into bracelet of light, which dulled to something approaching normal as he slipped it onto Seungkwan’s wrist. He nodded one last time to the two before closing the gate with a flick of his mind. It powered down and disappeared, but was still there like a sleeping giant. He wished fervently that Seungkwan had no desire to open it again.

 

Between the three _shisa_ and help from Choi-ssi on the second floor, they managed to get the boys to Jin’s apartment. Yoongi was there already, staring the walls back into place – not that Jimin could blame the walls, his boyfriend had a particularly flat, irritated stare when he wanted to. Leaving him to fix the last of the place that had been demolished by phoenix-fire, he laid Jeonghan and Soonyoung on the living room couches, going to tuck Seungkwan into his bed.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he murmured, feeling Yoongi idle closer to wrap arms around his waist and a small, pointed chin settling on his shoulder. “Is this what Jin- _hyung_ felt like when I came to this world the first time? He’s so damaged. It would have been better if he had never met us.”

 

Yoongi breathed out slowly. “Maybe,” he allowed. “We’ll keep an eye on him, at least as much as we can.”

 

Unseen, as they watched him breathe, the bracelet started doing what it was programmed to. It spread a thin panacea of healing over the worst places of the boy’s mind and soul, shooting out gossamer threads that anchored the wall of the empty place inside him. It had no intelligence, so did not recognise something slipping away over the snapped bridge of souls; instead, doing what it could, it left a healing anaesthesia in his mind and settled in to wait.

 

===============================================

 

It took a long time for the others to come back from what they did. Hours passed with little beyond an order for fried chicken and beer for lunch, then noodles as a late-night snack. Yoongi had phoned the dorms and the kids’ manager, smoothing over things somehow. Jimin sat with Muji on his lap, fingers worrying into the fur as he listened to humanity in the back of his head whilst a singing show played on the TV.

 

Taehyung had tears in his eyes when he came through the door, and Jimin picked Muji off his lap as his best friend pulled him up into a tight hug. Their hugs were fierce, but oddly it was Jungkook that affected him the most: he had often thought Jungkook one of the strongest of them all, but seeing his face crumple into tears as he pressed it against Jimin’s shoulder revealed the depth of what they had gone through whilst he was off with Yoongi.

 

“It won’t happen again,” Namjoon said as he handed Kookie over to Yoongi, who rested a hand against the nape of the youngest’s neck and held him, freeing Jimin to hug his appa and eomma. “The story that started so long ago is finally done, I guess.”

 

Jin, carding his fingers through Jimin’s blonde locks, looked down at the two still-sleeping boys on the couches. “With costs,” he murmured to his fiance. “These two look as if something dragged them backways through hell.”

 

Jimin kept his arm around his eomma’s waist, head resting comfortably on his broad shoulder. “I’d like you to take a look at Seungkwan if possible,” he asked. “He needs some healing to be done, and Joonie- _hyung_ , he definitely needs your touch. He got hurt too much.”

 

Minutes later he stood leaning against the wall next to his bed as he watched Namjoon and Jin work on Seungkwan. It had been even in the beginning, but for the last minute or so it had exclusively been his appa- _hyung_ , with energy coming from Jin- _hyung_. His eyes weren’t closed but focused on the headboard instead, distant as he worked his way through the reaches of Seungkwan’s mind. His face was almost too easy to read: worry, frustration with what he found, and above it a large stripe of wry affection.

 

“Since when do boys have this kind of courage?” he asked eventually, fingers gentle on Seungkwan’s temples. “These three… you do realise that we owe them everything, right? Yoongi- _hyung_ , come over here for a second? Jinnie…”

 

Jin shifted wordlessly to make space for Yoongi to sit, resting knobby fingers on Seungkwan’s forehead. At his hand’s touch the gen that slumbered there shimmered into being a cracked oval with little to indicate the power it had given off. His fingers barely trembled, but the gem shivered like a petted puppy and healed over, reverting to a silvery, almost febrile luminescence. “Just like that,” he crooned softly.

 

Namjoon looked sideways at him. “You’re the only other person I know that managed to survive a soul-bond breaking,” he said. “And at the time you were stronger than he is now. In your opinion, what should we do?”

 

Yoongi restfully brushed back limp locks of hair. “My bond with Jiminie never fully broke,” he admitted. “It was there, I knew it was there and I worked to keep it stable. It was difficult though, and it’s going to be worse for him. I dislike saying it, but bury it if you can where it can heal at its own rate. The memories too, if he has them, they would only torture him.”

 

“That’s wrong,” Jungkook said from behind. Silent until now save for his weeping earlier, he bit on his lip as everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, don’t lock them away permanently. Her deserves having some good memories from this entire mess. Can’t you set it so that they slowly wake up as the bond starts growing again? Er… it will grow again?”

 

“There’s a Chinese concept,” Yoongi shared with them. “ _Yuánfèn,_ Fateful coincidence. Chwe Hansol and Boo Seungkwan have it; I would not doubt it at all if someone told me they had gone through hundreds of lifetimes getting closer to each other. It is like that Swedish philosopher you lent me the book about, Namjoon-ah.”

 

Namjoon frowned for a moment before his expression cleared. “Jung, right?”

 

Yoongi nodded. “They have a natural affinity. Perhaps still too puppy-eager right now, but perhaps destiny will be kind to them. I hope so, at least.”

 

“Kookie,” Taehyung murmured. “You make my heart so soft sometimes.”

 

“I can do it,” Namjoon agreed. “At least enough to let him heal a little bit before we make it his choice. A few months or so should do it. Jinnie, you’ll have to help his body; it’s functioning on half a soul at the moment , so his aura’s going to be thin as gauze.”

 

Jin nodded. “I have a few things that I can do, and that reminds me. Jiminie, didn’t you say that you wanted to look at the diets your boys had as well?”

 

Jimin scrunched his nose. “You wouldn’t _believe_ what they eat, _hyung_ ,” he complained. “They pack away almost as much as our Kookie, but they don’t have his metabolism for all they dance it off, it’s just ramyun and fried chicken and colas and sweets! It’s disgusting! It’s like no one at the company even considered the possibility that caffeine like that is harmful to developing bodies, and…”

 

“Touch my coffee and you die, as much as I love you,” Yoongi said drily, standing.

 

“ _Your_ kidneys are made out of solid swag with a side of aloof disinterest, Yoongi- _hyung_ ,” Taehyung said earnestly. “I doubt hell itself could corrupt them.”

 

Yoongi nodded slowly, appreciatively. “And don’t you forget it.”

 

===============

 

It was later, much later, when he woke again, this time to the sensation of a hand on his forehead. He had been lost in a dream somewhere, and the touch shocked him awake, soothing away the pain that lingered bone-deep in his body. It even felt like his body again, and he could feel clothes on it, hems around his wrists and ankles and neck, which made him feel so grateful that he wanted to cry for real.

 

It was Jimin- _hyung_ ’s face, though he didn’t think he could ever ignore the power behind him now, washing from him like waves on a shore. For all that, it was gentle as sunlight over a bed, making his toes tingle.

 

“Is it over?” he asked tiredly as he sat up.

 

Jimin- _hyung_ smiled at him and nodded. “And you’re still you,” he assured him, sitting back on the bed.

 

Seungkwan grimaced as he moved to sit straight, discreetly patting his chest and legs.

 

“…and you still have a male body, Seungkwan-ah,” Jimin- _hyung_ reassured him. “You’re still male, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Just because Mugi called you a bird-maiden doesn’t mean that you’re literally a maiden.”

 

“What happened there at the end?” he asked, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders. “In the temple?”

 

Jimin- _hyung_ sighed and sat back against one of the posters of the bed after handing him a mug of coffee. “It’s instant,” he warned. “Well, you did something rather remarkable. You took the power washing over the lands and used it to build a gate to Heaven.”

 

Seungkwan sipped at the coffee to cover his confusion. “Heaven really exists?” he mumbled.

 

“It does, but it’s not theoretically a place where all good souls go in the way that most religions think, it’s more like a really distant foreign country. They’ve been closed for a very long time now. You must have carried the knowledge in your blood, along with your ancestor’s soul.” He grimaced. “That’s the best I can explain it.”

 

Another sip, then another. It was not only the caffeine, but the heat that let him slowly relax. “What _are_ you?” he finally asked, too tired to be anything but blunt. “Are you even still our friend?”

 

Jimin- _hyung_ managed a small smile. “Still your friend,” he answered quietly and with great conviction. “Always and always. As to what I am… I’m just Park Jimin. The extra parts don’t define me, just as they won’t define you.” He paused and stood, going to draw the curtain on the night-dark expanse of the complex yard. “You are always and ever Boo Seungkwan, for all you’re a bit banged around. It’s difficult to believe now, but you’ll see how true that is as time goes on.”

 

Seungkwan finished his coffee. “Do I need to go back to the dorm now?” he asked wearily. “We have practice in the morning so I shouldn’t miss that.”

 

“You won’t be missing it alone,” Jimin- _hyung_ murmured as he crossed to the bed to help him sit back. “You’re going nowhere tonight. Sleep.”

 

Turning on his side, Seungkwan closed his eyes and did just that, falling asleep to a hazy dream of someone holding him.


	2. Chapter 2

Early morning struck with all the fervour of a brick wielded by an expert hand; Jeonghan seriously doubted that he’d be able to get up at all, but he knew he had to. Jin-ssi had given him some kind of tonic last night, which had felt wonderful for a moment. It was all worked out now, and it fell to him as the eldest to make sure the others were up. They’d be returning to the dorm today; the guys would get suspicious if they stayed any longer.

 

No matter how he repeated those thoughts in his head, it didn’t grow any easier.

 

He fought himself to get out of bed, triumphed and tiredly rubbed at his eyes, shoving his long hair back. Hoshi was next on his list, though he jumped out of bed and into the bathroom with the fervour of a thousand suns. Seungkwan was… Seungkwan was going to be a problem.

 

The boy lay waxy-still on the small bed. His heart skipped a beat for a moment, but then he saw his chest slowly lift and fall, and he could breathe again. There were dark circles underneath Seungkwan’s eyes, and his complexion seemed fragile somehow, as if he was a delicate sculpture someone put together the wrong way. Reaching out, he rested his hand on the boy’s forehead, biting his lip at the warm, feverish feel of it.

 

“I’m worried about him,” came a soft, sweet voice from the doorway. “We suppressed most of the trauma last night, and there is a… ritual working to heal him, but he’s going to be fragile for a long time still. His aura is heavily compromised. You’ll have to watch him.”

 

He didn’t need to look to know that it was Jimin-ssi. Idly, as his fingers twisted Seungkwan’s limp bangs into a smooth fall, he considered his junior instead. “I remember what happened,” he said softly. “And I think Soonyoung-ah does as well, I can still see the shadows in his eyes. Will Seungkwan-ah as well?”

 

Jimin wandered closer. “Yes,” he said quietly. “We tried to cover it up as much as possible, but Seoul was ground zero, and you were in the thick of things. The mundanes would have forgotten already, but anyone with a shred of power will have a chance of remembering, more if they’re close to someone involved.”

 

Jeonghan breathed out. “At least that means that the rest of the band likely won’t. That’s a relief. He won’t be able to dance and sing like this though, and if there’s one thing I know it’s that Boo Seungkwan wants to be a performer with all of his heart.”

 

Jimin gave him a skewed smile before he tilted his head as if listening to something. One hand stretched out to thin air, twisting until he materialised a thin woven bangle that shimmered with all the shades of a peacock’s body wing. Leaning over, he manipulated it, checking something, before it shrunk into his skin and disappeared.

 

A second one appeared, and he snagged it from the air to hand to Jeonghan, then a third, which he lay on Hoshi’s rumpled bed. “Protection,” he explained quietly. “And a measure of power for him until we can sort him out. For what it’s worth, Jeonghan-ssi, I _am_ sorry that you got involved in this. Things will calm down at your work now, and I’ll take Seungkwan to the dorm if you two want to head on in. I think Soonyoung-ah’s going to be so charged up that he…”

 

A scream came from the bathroom, along with the sound of the shower door shattering. The two of them didn’t even look at each other. Instead they nearly brained each other getting to the bathroom, which Jimin won by a hair. The door didn’t just open in front of him, it _disappeared_ as Jimin barged in without hesitation, only to skid to a stop two steps later, expression shocked beyond belief.

 

Jeonghan, cursing his lazy limbs, heard another shattering sound before he got in, but his eyes widened as well.

 

There, on the floor, Soonyoung-ah lay butt-naked, one half flailing at himself and the other half twisted into what looked like a thin, too-energetic colt. An actual colt, with two hooves and a fur on digitigrade legs, like a centaur that fucked-up and transformed whilst on mushrooms. Or, well, not a centaur, because there was a tiny golden wing coming out of one shoulderblade, beating frantically against the floor.

 

 _He looks like a fucked up My Little Pony doll_ , his mind havered.

 

“Holy fuck,” Jimin- _hyung_ breathed out, and he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

 

“Guys!” Soonyoung yelled with what was left of his throat, flailing like a demented fish. “Don’t just stand there staring! Actually help!”

 

“But…” Jeonghan got out limply, “How?”

 

Soonyoung shot him a furious, teary-eyed look at that, trying to pull himself up, and he leant forward to try and help him, not an easy feat when your friend was literally balancing on one foot with two little colt legs kicking at you and oh boy, he never did like horror…

 

“Oh my _gosh_ ,” Jimin got out, sounding exactly like Seungkwan for a moment. “You’re a _chollima_.”

 

===========================================

 

It took fifteen minutes of frantic explanation, a call to someone named ‘Hobi- _hyung_ ’ and finally the arrival of a man that had more energy than was good for himself before Soonyoung recovered, somehow shifting back to his human form. Jeonghan wrapped a blanket around his shivering form and sat down on the couch next to him. The sight had done more to wake him up than caffeine would have, so he stared eagle-eyed at the two immortals sitting on the couch opposite him.

 

Sounds came from the kitchen, and his stomach gurgled at the plain smell of breakfast rice, but he kept staring like a laser.

 

“You know,” the stranger said, “This is really not my fault. I had _zero_ to do with him turning into one of us.”

 

Soonyoung sunk a little further into himself, pulling the blanket up around his head, until only his nose and slanted eyes were still visible. “I don’t normally turn into a horse, dude,” he got out sulkily. “There have been no horse-related episodes in my life so far.”

 

“Chollima,” the guy got out, affronted. “We’re chollima, not horses.”

 

“I definitely didn’t give him chollima DNA whilst I was healing him,” Jin-ssi got in from the kitchen. “I only work with what’s… oh. Hm.”

 

Jimin blinked. “ _Hyung_?” he murmured. “You thought of something?”

 

Jin meandered from the kitchen to brace his hip against one wall, still holding a spoon. “What if it was like Seungkwan-ah, something that was hidden in his DNA all along? For every supernatural out there, there must be thousands who have a slicking of it somewhere in them from an ancestor, and he was at the epicentre of a lot of power. Joonie, the radioactive spider.”

 

Soonyoung’s nose peeped out a bit more. “I’m an X-man?” he asked hopefully. “Do I get claws?”

 

“Superspeed,” Hobi-ssi muttered. “ _Chollima_ don’t get claws. We can just run really fast, and we’re strong.”

 

“…and they’re preternaturally graceful,” Jimin added. “You should see Hobi- _hyung_ dance. It’s nothing bad, I _promise._ It’s just… you know. Some of it comes with a desire to eat grass…”

 

“Hey! I have zero desire to eat grass!” Hobi muttered.

 

Somehow, the sound of Jimin giggling made Jeonghan relax a little, as if little in the world could go wrong if he did that still. “I guess I’m going to the studio alone this morning,” he murmured into his cup of tea. “Seungcheol will be wanting to know where the three of us were, it must have looked like we disappeared out of the dorms. Jin-ssi, will you mind if these two stay a little longer? Especially Seungkwanie.”

 

Jin smiled at him, handsome features relaxing a little. “Of course – and call me _hyung_ , okay? I don’t really hold with that much formality, not after three kids to make me go grey…”

 

“Oh please,” Jimin protested. “As if someone so handsome can go grey. If you want to take a shower, Jeonghan-ah, before I take you?”

 

“And look in my closet for something to put on!” Jin called over his shoulder as he sallied back into the kitchen. “Nothing in Jiminie’s closet will fit!”

 

“HEY!” Jimin protested again. “

 

===============================================

 

Kim Seokjin had the wardrobe of a god, and Jeonghan wasted no time outfitting himself in a pair of slacks and silk shirt from Laurent, humming approvingly. He liked the feel of the luxury brand against his skin. Turning to and fro, he admired the outfit as he raked his hair back into a messy ponytail, and was halfway to the bathroom to wash up when he considered the underwear situation. In the end, vowing to buy the man a new pair, he snuck out some clean ones, took everything into the bathroom and had the longest, hottest shower of his recent memory. He had it to himself too, which was glorious.

 

When he emerged, hair slicked back into a neater ponytail and dressed in fine, borrowed feathers, it was to find Hoshi demonstrating a dance step to Jimin- _hyung_ and Hobi-ssi in the living room, decked out in a shockingly red Supreme tracksuit that just about everyone in the dorm would kill him for.

 

“You two look expensive,” Jin- _hyung_ said from the shower.

 

Hobi tilted his head. “As expensive as that song that Namjoon-ah tried to write for you once?”

 

Jin burst out laughing before handing over two stacks of containers filled with food. “Here,” he muttered. “Jeonghan-ah, I’m trusting you to make sure that they eat. I’ve also included a list of supplements at the bottom, and I know they’re a little expensive, so I’ll take care of it with Jiminie – I want you to drink one of the tablets in the morning, then one at night, okay? It’ll help with your energy and sleep problems.”

 

Jeonghan wasn’t the type to blush, but he wanted to; he could see why Jimin- _hyung_ kept on referring to Jin- _hyung_ as his eomma. “ _Hyung_ , this is way too much…”

 

“Nonsense,” Jin said grandly, walking straight over his objections.

 

The dancing trio fell silent as Yoongi emerged with Seungkwan in his arms. It looked off, given that they were almost the same height, but he carried the unconscious boy without any visible strain, long fingers clutching him gently close. “I spoke to Seungmin-ah,” he informed them. “I told them that he had a fairly bad respiratory complaint and came to ask Jin- _hyung_ to heal it. It’ll explain his changed voice. Jeonghan-ah, I am looking to you to keep him in bed for the next few days, no matter how much he complains. You too, Soonyoung-ah.”

 

“We will,” Soonyoung promised solemnly. “Can the two of us head to the office though? I want to show off this outfit, and we have that cover shoot tomorrow, so I want to get as much dance training in as we can…”

 

“Hold on a moment,” Jin muttered, disappearing into his room. Minutes later, he emerged with what looked like a designer shirt and a Fenty sweatsuit in pale blue. “Here,” he muttered to Jeonghan. “You’ll have to borrow a pair of shoes there though, unfortunately.”

 

Jimin, seeing Jin’s expression, tried not to grin. “Just take it, Jeonghan-ah. You can pay him back with concert tickets when you’re rich and famous.”

 

Jeonghan, feeling entirely overwhelmed, just nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

Hansol crept into the dorm room, ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach. Practice had been bad; Soonyoung- _hyung_ had returned from his trip to the complex with more energy than five other people put together, and Jeonghan- _hyung_ was in one of his mysterious, evil moods, speaking only to Seungcheol- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ and in whispers at that. Ignoring the invitation to dinner afterwards, he came home to shower.

 

It was a very odd feeling circling in the pit of his stomach. He knew Seungkwan was there, and knew that he wasn’t well, but something drove him to check up. Something filled his mind with the feeling of broken glass as he thought of the boy that had been his friend these past few years, as different as they had turned out to be.

 

The room was dark and a little too warm for his tastes. He snuck forward to the stacked beds, creeping closer on his hands and knees, and almost swallowed his tongue when he saw his friend. He looked worse now than he had after that miserable time at Seollal, with all the vitality he had been regaining sucked right back out. His forehead was warm to the touch, and he almost pulled away, afraid to harm him.

 

A tingle in the pit of his stomach stopped him. It was like nausea mixed with urgency, and he carefully combed at Seungkwan’s sweaty bangs. Unsure of what to do, he scrambled away to go and get a cool cloth for his forehead, like he would if Jeonghan- _hyung_ had one of his migraines. On his way back he grabbed his phone and a closed bottle of water. The beds dipped as he crawled back, and he peeled the duvet back to crawl in underneath it himself. It took a little doing, but he soon rested on his back with Seungkwan braced against his chest, anchored there with one arm.

 

He had thought to go through social media, text his family or something, but the moment he draped the cloth against Seungkwan’s neck, his eyes closed as well, and he sank under into healing sleep.

 

_Blood dripped slowly from the long, smooth fingers to plop against the ground, still vital in colour and slick, shining wetly against the smooth skin. The killer watched it fall for a few minutes before turning away from the crime scene, leaving the corpse there. There was a little dog barking somewhere deeper into the house, and he heard a mumble as the woman in the house woke up, but it all concerned him little as he pulled the front door of the residence shut, relishing the creak of his leather gloves._

Hansol jerked awake, feeling nausea roil thick in his stomach. It was dark around him, and he didn’t need his phone to know that it was late – very late, there were people sleeping all around them. Sometime during the night, Seungkwan had gotten enough energy to move, and they were tangled up, arms and legs twisted like pretzels. The cloth, no longer cool, was half-draped across his sleeping face, making Hansol take a quick picture before he considered the dream. It had been so _real_ , as if he was in the killer’s mind, and it didn’t have that dreamlike quality where only some things were sharped.

 

Given that he normally dreamt of gothic castles filled with rap and odd trees, this didn’t bode too well. He could still taste it ghosting on the back of his tongue. It made him afraid for the future; the thought that small dogs barking would remind him of the nightmare didn’t sit well with him. He _liked_ dogs, and he needed his sleep if he was going to pass high school and debut.

 

 _I’m growing up_.

 

It was an odd thought to have, but it was the wolf hour and that’s when thoughts like that strike. _I’m taller than Seungkwan these days, as much as he likes to deny it. And here I am, still clinging to my best friend like I did over the past few years. I didn’t even think earlier tonight, I just climbed in with him. But he looked worn out, no one could deny that._

 

His lips pinched together and he carefully untangled his limbs from Seungkwan’s before he crept out of bed. His shirt stuck to his back and the sweat making it cling turned cold, but he ignored it.

 

Two hours later he felt better, even if most of the lyrics he had written would never be fit for a pop group’s consumption. He could even keep a straight face when Seungkwan woke up halfway through breakfast, whining about being hungry.

 

=======================================================

 

_A cloud of voices_

_Whirling through my mind_

_Taking my eyes_

_Tearing them away from you_

_I need that line_

_I need that hand_

_I need love to understand_

_It’s hard to be here_

_It’s hard to stay safe_

_Because I’m a tiger in a patterned sea_

_Lost in the concept of me_

_Sinking in a patterned sea_

_Will you be my ears in the cloud?_

_Will you guide my steps on the ground?_

_Will you understand how much it frightens me?_

_Frightens me_

_To be adrift in this patterned sea?_

 

=============================================================

 

The tiny room never failed to make Seungkwan feel a little claustrophobic. The sound=dampening padding on the walls still smelled of old foam and someone had ripped a piece off, making it look lopsided. He was the only one in there at the moment, warming up his voice.

 

Something had happened to his voice in that moment where the gate had opened. Before it, it had still flirted back and forth between a light tenor and a child’s range. Now it was stabilised, but oddly he had lost none of the range, just the annoying tendency for it to bounce back and forth between the two as his voice broke. Idly curious, forgetting about his exercises for a moment, he started at the bottom of his range and slowly worked his way up and up, until sound disappeared and his ears started to ache a little.

 

The band inside his wrist glowed, pulsing in time with his voice, and he hastily stopped, yanking the sweater’s sleeve down over it. Oh, it wasn’t overt, and he didn’t think the others could see it, but it was still there, a mottling of scales underneath his skin, circling and keeping him steady. Jeonghan- _hyung_ had, in some fit of macabre humour, referred to it as a celestial response band, which hadn’t stopped him from wanting to scratch it out off his skin in the least.

 

He was pretty sure that he was losing time here and there. The other night, doing his homework, he had blinked and an hour had passed somehow. He…

 

His attention flicked away as quick as a hummingbird’s when Jun- _hyung_ opened the door and came in to sit on the second chair. He loved his Chinese _hyung_ ; We Junhui was as convinced as Jin- _hyung_ that he was one of the most beautiful men in the world (and he was correct), but he was quiet and sweet and affectionate too. This time he had a cup of peppermint tea in his hand, which he handed over after only a small sip. “For your throat,” he explained. “It’s only a little warm.”

 

Seungkwan bowed over the small cup and bathed in the steam misting from it. “Thank you, _hyung_ ,” he mumbled.

 

“The hour is almost up, so we’re going to move to choreo practice soon. Are you going to be alright, Seungkwan-ah?”

 

Seungkwan fought hard not to blush. “Am I normally that terrible, _hyung_?”

 

“No,” Jun said easily. “But you’ve been sick recently, and we were worried about you.”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes popped open. “Oh my goooosh,” he got out, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry… are the _hyung_ s talking? I’ll work harder, I promise.”

 

Jun looked at him as if he was a foreign sample in that moment; it reminded him that Jun- _hyung_ was still essentially a foreign national in Korea, and just didn’t get some of the bone-deep kinesics.

 

Jun carefully shook his head. “No one is saying anything like that,” he said slowly. “We are just worried about a younger brother, you did not do anything wrong. But Seungkwan-ah, we live in a dorm together. It’s hard to miss when someone is feeling down. You haven’t even talked to Hansol-ah a lot, and when last did you phone your mother?”

 

Seungkwan took another sip of tea. “I phoned her last night, _hyung_ , I promise,” he muttered around the teacup’s rim. “And Hansollie…”

 

His voice faded against his will as he thought of the other problem in his life. He had been deliriously ecstatic when he found out that the rest of the band wouldn’t remember anything, because he couldn’t for the life of him think of a world in which he had… he had…

 

Nothing. The memories didn’t want to surface, as if they had decided to give him a break.

 

His fingers spasmed as he jerked his attention away from that thought, from the thought of his body reacting as Hansol had pinned him to the wall and crowded him with his body earlier today, or the whispered argument they had against the aircon. “We’re okay,” he said with the best smile he could conjure up, downing the rest of the tea. “As long as you are here _hyung_ , could you help me with my _hanmun_ afterwards, please?”

 

Jun considered him for a long time before he thoughtfully brought a fingertip to his lips. “Have you been studying your calligraphy?” he asked mock-seriously. “I don’t want to have to look at ugly characters! And you will have to help me with Minghao-ah as well, like normal.”

 

“It’s a deal!” Seungkwan said.

 

==============================================

 

Jihoon looked up from the mixing program as the door opened quietly behind him, flicking a glance behind him. There were only a few people that would voluntarily disturb him whilst he was working, and it was late enough that none of the rasher juniors would be… ah. _Thank fuck it wasn’t Soonyoung-hyung._

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he greeted easily, taking the ramen container from Seungcheol. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

 

“Relax, Jihoonie,” their leader said as he rested his hands on his shoulders for a quick squeeze, peeking over his head. “I’m not here to tell you not to work; it’s Sunday tomorrow, so we’ll clear out the room so that you can sleep in. How’s it going?”

 

Jihoon slurped up a long mouthful of noodles first, stirring the soup around and around. “Well enough, I’ve got several ideas nailed down, so Yoo…Bumzu- _hyung_ and I will be going over them tomorrow and see which are promising. With any luck we’ll be able to put out another album soon after our debut, as long as nothing more goes wrong.”

 

“Hm?” Seungcheol questioned, hands a little nervous before he lifted them off.

 

Jihoon didn’t miss the pressure of Seungcheol’s hands, but he missed the solid presence of the ring. He missed it on his own hand too.

 

“When you’re done tonight, please go and haul Soonyoung-ah out of the practice room as well,” his leader said as he headed for the door. “I don’t know where he gets the energy these days, but he was still in there dancing like a demon when I left.”

 

Jihoon blinked. “He is? It’s nearly one. Is he keeping the rest of the unit too?”

 

Seungcheol shot him an irritated look. “If he wants to work himself like that, I don’t mind; he’s our choreographer after all, but do you really think I’d let him work the rest of them like that? Channie is only sixteen, he still needs his study time and sleep. I kicked them out, don’t worry.”

 

Jihoon muttered something, embarrassed, and felt only relief when the door closed behind him. He slowly finished his ramen, tried again to reconcile the memory of that terrible night when he had been forced home by Soonyoung- _hyung_. That night he had dreamt the wildest dreams, in which he was a music student somewhere overseas, laughing as he swam amongst the stars as if born to live there.

 

He pinched at his nose and went back to the song, trying not to feel dispirited and alone. They were working so hard for debut that he wouldn’t forgive himself for failing them somehow. He had to make songs, had to… had to…

 

He snapped his jaw shut, hoped that the ramen wouldn’t swell his face too much, and went back to work.

 

That night as three rolled around he made his way to the practice room for a break to stretch his legs. The lights were on the dimmest they could go, but Soonyoung still whirled like a dervish in the middle of the room. His body sketched fantastic shapes, infused not only with power but the kind of ineffable grace he had never seen before.

 

Kwon Soonyoung, he decided quietly, was a person that liked to have the others in the team shine more: Minghao’s b-boying, Chan’s absolute love for Michael Jackson, Jun’s sweeping moves that reminded him of clips he had seen of _Wushu_ monks in action. It was the kind of quality a leader had to have, but it left him like this, dancing his best in shadowed rooms with no one to see. Oh, he was sweating like a pig – when did Soonyoung- _hyung_ not sweat when dancing – but even that lent him a certain something. His eyes were tiger-intent, fixed on his moves in the mirror.

 

They snapped around, focused on him for a moment, piercing down to depths Jihoon had not thought he had, but the most beautiful smile bloomed afterwards. It faltered as he gave a step backwards, then another, and turned to dart back to his work, unwilling to admit that a single look could disturb him.

 

Hours later, when he woke up, someone had moved him to the couch in the small room. The blanket from its back was tucked in around him, and his head was braced on a small pillow. He closed his eyes and tried not to see the monsters behind his eyelids capering around a figure dancing brightly in the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Soonyoung stirred the cup of coffee slowly, uncaring that he was destroying the beautiful latte art on top of it. He felt odd, like his mind wanted the caffeine but his body really didn’t want it, and spending that much money on a drink he didn’t want was making him sad. They had been woken up by sirens that morning, apparently from a crime scene not too distant from them, and whilst most of the guys had rolled over on their other side he couldn’t sit still.

 

He had wanted to be asleep as well. Instead, he was seated in The Library, an expensive bar in the Silla Seoul, destroying the latte art on a cup of coffee he wasn’t sure the Buddha could afford, all whilst his foot tapped and his left hand trembled.

 

Idly he wondered whether this was what drugs felt like, the boundless rush of energy and the desire to move-move-move.

 

He nearly dropped the soiled teaspoon with a clatter as Jung Hoseok slid into the seat opposite him. The _hyung_ looked bright-eyed and ready to go, exactly as Soonyoung felt, even if he was carrying a baby bag with what looked like bottles of formula and a well-loved, well-chewed baby fox plushie under the other arm.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised happily with his sunshine smile. “I’m on transport duty today, so things are a little strange. You look…” He blinked and looked a little more closely at Soonyoung, head tilting a little. “You look like you’ve got the shakes. Are you shooting up, kid? That can ruin your career, you know?”

 

Soonyoung grunted with embarrassment. “I’m _not_ shooting up! I don’t know what’s wrong. I can barely sleep, I have so much energy I want to crawl out up the walls…”

 

“Ah.” Hoseok- _hyung_ ’s smile appeared slowly, heart-shaped and quite ironically lovely. “Isn’t that good?”

 

“No, not when I’ve had barely three hours sleep and I feel like I’m high as a kite,” Soonyoung muttered. “I’m not kidding, Hobi- _hyung_. I danced until five this morning, slept until nine, and then I couldn’t sleep more. Is something wrong with me? Is it… you know what?”

 

Hoseok arched his eyebrows impishly. “You know what?”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Soonyoung whined. “Is it… that? I can’t even look at this coffee without wanting it and being horrified of it at the same time.”

 

Hoseok’s smile grew wider, but a trifle more relaxed. “What did you eat last night?”

 

“Huh?” Soonyoung frowned. “Fried chicken? Mingyu-ah made some noodles and rice, and I had a couple of cups of ramen as a late night snack…”

 

“Whoa. Whoa-whoa-whoa. That’s your problem right there.” Hoseok put the plushie on the table, dragging the cup of coffee away from him. He looked around, before leaning in. “You’re eating too much.”

 

Soonyoung blinked. Did he… was he… “I’m not fat, _hyung_ , you have no idea how many calories we dance off…”

 

Hoseok gave him a level, flat look. “I’m a dance instructor on the side. I know exactly how many calories you guys dance off, not only because I teach people your age, but because I saw the plans that Jiminie brought around to see if I approved. Point is, those plans were made for mundanes, Soonyoung-ah. You’re not one of them anymore. Your body processes food vastly differently, and you get energy from sources you don’t even consider at first.”

 

Another blink, a slower one this time. “Uh… what?” Soonyoung asked. “What plans? What are you talking about?”

 

“Jiminie’s on a health craze again – not that I blame him after I saw pictures of your kitchen at the office,” Hoseok said. “He’ll spring them on you guys yet, try and look surprised.” He pointed down to Soonyoung’s hand. “Do you see the sunlight falling over it? That’s a source of food for you now, like it is for some dragons. Chollima run through calories tremendously fast because of our metabolisms, so we adapted to get energy wherever we could. You’re just dancing a couple of hours a day, kid. You could literally survive on a sandwich and an apple, especially if you get a lot of sunlight. Also, speaking of coffee – don’t. The caffeine and sugar in it will make things ten times worse.”

 

Soonyoung stared at him, gobsmacked. “Sunlight?” he squeaked out. “What kind of world is this that you guys live in?”

 

Hoseok shot him a commiserating glance. “Your world now too, kid. Now, how about I pay for that cup of coffee and we go for a run? It’ll burn the edge off you, and I have a lot of errands to be done. Besides, just think of the study time you’ll have now. Your first year course material ought to be a breeze. What are you thinking of studying?”

 

“I… ah… I was thinking of applying to SIA’s Fine Arts bachelor program,” Soonyoung stuttered, feeling entirely overrun. “I’ve always wanted to be a choreographer, and it’ll help me with the team’s routines as well.”

 

A brilliant smile grew on his _hyung_ ’s face. “That’s an excellent idea! There’s also an excellent program at Kyunghee if you were thinking of applying there.” He pulled out his wallet, handing over his credit card to the quiet waiter he waved down. “Come on, we can talk about it as we run.”

 

 _I’m with a hurricane,_ Soonyoung thought, the thought both bizarre and hilariously apt. _An actual human hurricane._ Outwardly, he shut up and took the plushie Hobi- _hyung_ offered him, sticking it under his arm.

 

=============================================

 

 Minghao twitched the curtain of the small living room window aside a little as he brushed his teeth, looking down the street towards the three police cars parked there. He had woken up to the noise, and murder was thankfully rare enough in South Korea. Beyond the three police cars, beyond the crime scene tape, he could see news vans clustered, and if he tilted his head slightly he could hear a report on it from the TV in the living room.

 

He went to rinse his mouth, padded over in his socks and sank down next to Joshua- _hyung_ , who automatically shared his blanket with him. Together, warm and comfy, they watched the report with sleepy eyes.

 

“…have not yet released the identity of the murder victim, but leaked footage of what looked like a highly ritualistic murder scene has been submitted anonymously by many netizens, and the community is already demanding a plan for action from the local superintendant…”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said, trying to follow what the woman was saying.

 

Joshua pinched his lips shut and clicked off the broadcast as they began to show pictures. “They’re saying that the murder seems to be part of a ritual,” he said gently and slowly in his soft voice, sounding out the Korean for him. “But I don’t want to watch the pictures. I’m just happy that it wasn’t one of us.”

 

Minghao nodded. “I don’t want to see them either. But _hyung_ , you come from a country where the crime rate is much higher, not so?”

 

“The States?” Joshua question. “You’re right, Los Angeles does have a much higher crime rate than here, even murder. I don’t want to say that you ever get used to it, but it is much less newsworthy there. It has to be something…” His mouth spasmed, lips growing thin. “It has to be something much more _special_ to catch attention.”

 

Minghao looked up, caught Junhui’s gaze from the door leading into the living room, and chose not to say anything. Instead, patting Joshua’s shoulder, he took the remote and switched the TV on again, quickly moving to a channel with morning anime. Minutes later he could feel his _hyung_ relax next to him as they watched some stupid magical girl show, all twirling ribbons and transformation poses, and tried not to let his mind dwell on that red landscape glimpsed so quickly.

 

It brought up too many painful memories.

 

========================================================

 

The makeup room was uber-busy with the bustling of the band, stylists, makeup artists, hairdressers and photographers, not to mention assistants. There were so many people that Dino’s waist was already aching from all the bowing he did, and so he sought out his leader, tugging on Seungcheol’s sleeve as he weighed the merits of two pairs of rings. “ _Hyung_?” he asked. “Is it okay if I go and look at the puppies?”

 

His leader shot him a quick look. “Sure,” he said after a moment. “But only thirty minutes, okay? You’re first on the schedule today.”

 

Dino sighed and nodded dolefully as he scooted. He knew it was because he was still the youngest and they were trying to give him as much time as possible for his studies and schoolwork later on, but it still felt like being babied.

 

 _At least it wasn’t Jeonghannie-hyung._ _That would have sucked._

 

He ambled to the small room where the staff that came to the shoot left their pets, sinking down next to Seungkwan- _hyung_ on a pillow to look over the pets there. There weren’t as many as the other day, but a tiny Bichon Frise still came to the kid fence so that he could stroke its fluffy head with a finger. He couldn’t remember who this one belonged to, or the sleeping brown one his _hyung_ was cuddling.

 

“ _Hyung_ …” he got out before staffer voices interrupted him.

 

“Did you hear?” It was an ahjumma, one he faintly recognised as their stylists’ supervisor. “Park Ga-in-ssi called in with apologies today _again_. She’s going to lose the job if it keeps on, Management isn’t happy.”

 

As much as he hated the snarl in her tone, it was the glee in the other’s voice that made him feel worse. “You mean you didn’t hear?” the older male assistant – he couldn’t place him – got out. “She’s been arrested for murder. That disgusting husband of hers got killed last night. It was all over the news this morning, didn’t you see? But then I wondered when she’d snap, he had been beating her.”

 

Next to him Seungkwan- _hyung_ stiffened. He didn’t blame him. Whenever he thought of Park Ga-in-ssi, it was as a noona that didn’t speak much and that always did her best to make them look good. She had had a dog too, a tiny adorable little poodle with a rainbow pastel tail. He glanced at the pen. He couldn’t see the rainbow tail anywhere.

 

“Why?” the ahjumma asked. “Cheating?”

 

The man shrugged. “Who knows? There were rumours it was because she couldn’t get pregnant, but no wonder if she’s been spreading them for other people…”

 

Tears stung at Chan’s eyes. Next to him Seungkwan- _hyung_ was a cold, cool statue, watching the gossiping staffers with a flat stare and thin lips that he had never seen him use before.

 

He couldn’t _stand_ it. His body moved despite what his mind wanted to say about being still and quiet. “P-pardon me, but could you please discuss that somewhere else? Park Ga-in-ssi was a really nice lady so, um, please…”

 

As one, they turned to look at him, and right behind their horror came anger. “What did you say?” the ahjumma snarled.

 

Chan breathed in, preparing to apologise his butt off, but Seungkwan- _hyung_ stood up next to him, passing him the dog as he half-pulled him in behind his body. “Park Ga-in-noona is a nice person,” he said louder, but his tone was courteous and very respectful, formal even in his tone of speech. “I ask that you please refrain from discussing that topic here.”

 

 _Oh damn_ , Chan thought, bewildered. _Hyung, you stupid, don’t take the heat for me…_

 

But Seungkwan did, body protecting his, and he had never been more impressed in his life.

 

=================================================

 

“Seungcheol-ah, have you seen Chan-ah or Seungkwan-ah? They’ve been waiting on them for an hour to start the shoot, I had to ask them to start with Hansol-ah first.”

 

Seungcheol blinked up from his textbook to stare at their manager, mind fighting to come back from Physics Land. “I talked to him a little bit ago and he asked whether he could go and look at the dogs?” he murmured, frowning as he stood and pulled out his earphones. “I told him not to be late, but I should have been keeping a better eye on him. I’ll go and find him now, Manager- _hyung_.”

 

Seungmin smiled at him. “It’s okay, let’s just go and track him down, right? He probably just lost track of time. Nothing that can’t be fixed by a little reshuffling.”

 

Not for the first time Seungcheol thanked their lucky stars for Seungmin- _hyung_ and his easy, caring ways, especially after the unpleasantness they had faced during their earlier years. Nodding, he wandered out at his side and onwards, still trying to remember the rest of today’s shoot schedule. Arriving at the door to the pet area, he bowed to his manager and opened the door, only to freeze as he saw what was going on inside.

 

Chan-ah was caught in the grip of an assistant’ hands, struggling furiously, with a wriggling and squirming puppy in his hands. He had a streak of nervous dog pee down his front and murder in his eyes. Seungkwan was… Seungkwan was struggling up from the floor, holding the back of his head, having clearly just been the recipient of a strong blow there.

 

“Don’t bother getting up, you fat pig! Push-ups until I say it’s enough!” the stylist-ahjumma yelled down at him as she lifted a foot to push down on his waist.

 

Seungkwan didn’t whimper, didn’t even cry as he slowly stretched out to start doing the push-ups.

 

Seungcheol wasn’t sure how he crossed the intervening space, but he brushed her out of the way as he pushed past her to help their main vocal up. He bore it stolidly as she squawked and staggered back, off-balance on just one foot, and concentrated on the boy in his arms. Hell, he had promised his mother he’d look after him as best he could. Now here he was, bleeding out of his hairline and shaking like a leaf.

 

Chan, on the other side, was yelling obscenities at the top of his lungs, and a part of his mind appreciated the fact that he had restrained himself from attacking the two. Someone that had trained as long as he did in dance could do a lot of damage with a back-kick, even with a nervous dog in his hands.

 

“Let him go,” Seungmin- _hyung_ said behind him, sounding as irate as he ever heard him. “Or I will not only not be worried if he breaks your foot, but I’ll cheer. Chan-ah, put the dog down and go and find Yoongi- _hyung_. Seungcheol-ah, take Seungkwan-ah to the bathroom. I’ll be right along. I just need to explain a few small things to these two.”

 

Seungcheol, feeling like a failure, led Seungkwan out. They made it to the bathroom in record time and he checked that it was empty before he locked the door and turned to stare at him.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry, _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan started to apologise. “I’m really sorry, I’ll go and apologise to everyone else as well… I just couldn’t let her harp on Channie, he’s our baby…” That’s as far as he got before Seungcheol pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly.

 

He didn’t say anything when Seungkwan burst out into hysterical tears, murmuring soothing nonsense instead, and stared blindly over his shoulder as the boy cried.  “I’m the one that’s sorry,” he finally got out. “I should have protected you better, Seungkwan-ah. I’m so sorry. Shh, shh, it’s okay now. _Hyung_ is here.”

 

========================================================

 

Yoongi wasn’t angry when Seungmin came to tell the story, he was beyond furious, and yet he still counted his lucky stars that it had been him the man came to and not Jimin. If it had been Jimin, he would have hit the roof in mimicry of Hurricane Seokjin, and he wasn’t sure the pieces would be legally identifiable afterwards.

 

“What’s the damage?” he asked roughly.

 

“Well, Chan-ah’s costume was totalled until it can be cleaned…”

 

Yoongi wanted to snarl. “I don’t give a fuck about the costumes or the shoot. I’m talking about the kids, Seungmin-ah!”

 

Seungmin pursed his lips. “Chan-ah is mostly okay, though he might have some bruising around his wrist tomorrow but nothing that can’t be covered up. He’s just angry. Seungkwan-ah has a wound where she slapped him on the back of the head, from her ring or something. I took him to the clinic to check. He won’t need stitches, and he’s being brave about it, but he’s shook up. Understandably so. What will happen?”

 

Confused, Yoongi stared at him. “How do you mean?”

 

Seungmin cleared his throat. “Look, Chan confessed that he might have been rude when he asked them to leave, but in all honesty…”

 

Yoongi stared and stared, trying not to shout. Finally, with his hands tightly braided together, he sank back in his chair. “Nothing will happen to the kids. The two adults, on the other hand, will be criminally charged. They have already been dismissed and escorted from the building. The president understands that we will not tolerate such conditions here, and if he still has issues with that after my explanation, I will explain it again and again, until he gets the point. If anyone else is unsure of it either, you may refer them to me. I would prefer Park Jimin-ssi not being involved in this before I can explain the matter to him.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungmin protested. “I’m not _stupid_. Jimin-ah is very nice, but he’s got a temper like an ornery volcano sometimes. I fully believe the Han River would stop flowing if he asked it to.”

 

“Precisely,” Yoongi smiled thinly. “He gets it from his mother.”

 

======================================================

 

Jimin couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed, not when the day promised a whole host of wedding details to sort out, so he stretched instead, until his feet poked out from underneath the duvet and he wiggled his toes in the sunlight that fell over the bed. Humanity was a more-or-less content hum in the back of his head, so he felt as if he deserved it when he pulled his feet back in and decided to snuggle a bit longer. He reached out, ignoring Muji’s yowl of protest as he hauled him closer to bury his face in the clean fur.

 

 _I am not your cat-toy_ , the _shisa_ said with a grumble, though he allowed himself to be cuddled nevertheless, likely to celebrate the fact that he won out over the phoenix that still made his life hell. _You are not my owner, I am yours, this is disgusting. Right in front of my salad._

 

Jimin didn’t even bother to stifle his giggle as the _shisa_ cub tried to meme. Muji had taken to reading on the internet lately, sitting on his lap as he studied for his final exams, and sounding out syllables and concepts along with him. Something about the time they shared in the bubble had altered the cub, made him grow up a little faster than usual. _Yoongi-hyungie’s my owner,_ he replied sleepily. _You’ll have to go and fight that out with him._

 

 _I hear Jin-hyung coming,_ the _shisa_ said instead. _Make us invisible, I want to sleep longer._

 

Jimin groaned and rolled away, getting up without much of a protest. “You must be kidding,” he said out loud. “Jin- _hyung_ has laser eyes these days. You sleep some more. It looks like I’ll have to start my day.” Getting in a last, affectionate ruffle, he made for the bathroom instead, yawning and scratching his stomach, hoping for a wonderful day.


	5. Chapter 5

Lee Chan slumped out of the back of the company-hired dorm, slowly rotating the cup of iced Americano in his hand with subtle motions of his wrist. For a moment he wished that he could start smoking, but it wasn’t a habit an idol could afford to pick up, and their band hadn’t even debuted yet, he couldn’t sink them like that. He didn’t have _time_ for weakness, and at a time when they were heading into the last stages of prep for their first EP album he had even less.

 

Yesterday had been a nightmare.

 

His body felt bruised, stepped-on with lack of sleep, and he knew he had circles underneath his eyes, but an energy drink would keep him too awake later when he had time to sleep, so he made do with the lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what was up with the _hyung_ s, but after what had happened to Seungkwan- _hyung_ he was almost too afraid to ask. Having a moment of his own where he’s neither being yelled at nor being babied was a win in his book.

 

Ironically, he had never felt less like teen rebellion in his life.

 

A noise further up the tiny alley made one eye droop open a little wider. The dorm’s building abutted against another apartment building of sorts, a dingy mess of a place that hadn’t had a coat of paint in too long, and he was halfway glad that the fence was high enough along the back of the two properties that rats couldn’t get through. He hoped. There had recently been an influx of money into the company, but it had to cover too many holes, thus their current digs.

 

His gaze drifted up the alley to look for the source of the noise. It landed on a girl of indeterminate age settling down on a tiny step leading into the building on the other side, looking as if she creaked with every step. Her clothes weren’t the finest, a simple set of ratty jeans and a sweatshirt that had seen better days, and the side profile of her face looked absolutely haggard. From the way her shoulders hunched over she was just as tired as he was. Even her hair looked tired, flopping limply in the desultory bun she had scooped it up into.

 

If she was a sasaeng, she had clearly seen worse days.

 

For a moment he considered what to do. He wasn’t a terribly nice person, especially not when he was this tired, and he didn’t think he could stand company right now, especially in the form of someone that looked like _that_. Moments later, when dull embarrassment sunk into his soul at the meanness of that thought, he knew it was time to take a longer break. Tired Lee Chan might not be a nice guy, might be a loner, but he wasn’t a _bastard_.

 

He ambled off and over to her, sinking down on the same step. She didn’t move, not when he sat down, not when he got a look at her dry eyes and felt a shiver cross down his spine. They were burning with fatigue but dry, so dry she looked feverish. Rolling the lollipop in his cheek over to the other side, he made an executive decision and propped his cup of liquid ambrosia in her hands, waiting until they folded around it by reflex.

 

She jerked as he did so, but held the drink. It shook like that shot in Jurassic Park as she shivered, and for another moment he thought it would be a break if the world would oblige with a T-rex at that _very moment_ , just so that he didn’t feel awkward and embarrassed and sorry that he came over.

 

“I haven’t started it yet,” he mumbled around his lollipop.

 

“Thank you,” she managed to get out in a dusty, thick voice that cracked with disuse.

 

He winced at the wreck of that voice, but there was something in it that stroked at the fine hairs behind his ears as well, a distant glimmer of gold that might once have been something spectacular. Instead of speaking again, he stood and went back to the dorm, having had it acutely underlined that some people have it worse than him.

 

================================

 

The next day, with six hours of sleep on the couch under his belt, he should have felt spry, but instead he felt as if pieces of him were flaking off. He wanted to close his eyes and cry instead of going to study, but that wasn’t an option, and the brutal dancing practice Soonyoung- _hyung_ had led earlier had drained him down to the dregs, to the point where the tracks started blurring. If he could only… only…

 

A fidget of sound, a tiny scraping of material against steps. When he looked she was there again, and like him she seemed to feel worse. Her hands were draped over her knees today, and even at this distance he could see the shiver in them, the reflexive palsy that had nothing to do with conscious thought and everything with a body pushed past its limits.

 

He turned on his heel and wandered back to steal a cup of coffee from the tiny snack bar, along with some fucking stupid kind of cookie that was shaped like a turtle. If turtles had blue and pink icing on them, that was. Half a minute later he sat down at her side, looking dully at the fence in front of them. From this close she looked even worse; her cheeks were starting to fall in and he could see the bumps of her spine against the thin hoodie she had on. As a piece offering, he held the cup out for her and balanced a cookie on her knee.

 

She didn’t react for a moment, but when she did she was frantic. He watched as the cookie disappeared in two huge gulps, and she threw her head back to drain the coffee in three long sips. She was so fucking thin that he could halfway see the orbit of her eyes, the line of her larynx against her skin, and that was never something you should see on a girl.

 

He pondered asking how long she had been on the streets, but his mouth clacked shut uselessly. The answer wouldn’t do him any good, and would only harm her. He had had experience with working hard and deprivation – one didn’t become a successful idol without working hard at it – but the girl was a boil on his conscience he didn’t want to lance. Right now he couldn’t deal with that. Couldn’t deal with being a decent human being. Couldn’t deal with being sincere in any way.

 

He got to his feet and slowly wandered away, going back to his books. That night, as he crawled into bed early with a monumental headache, he wondered for a moment where she was sleeping and pulled the duvet tighter around him so that the others would neither see nor hear the tears that tracked down his cheeks.

 

====================================

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ cornered him at the building the next afternoon after school, taking a moment to run a gentle hand over his head. “Dino-ya,” he said happily. “I’ve got a plan for you – it’s just diet and nutrition, but it should make things a little easier. Do you have time to talk about it now?”

 

Chan considered him thoughtfully. Jiminie- _hyung_ wasn’t very tall, but he had a kind of golden look to him, as if health and vitality rubbed off on him. He opened his mouth to agree, but other words tumbled out, words he hadn’t meant to say. “I met a girl, _hyung_.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ blinked at him, taking in the slight pallor and their surroundings, before he ushered him into one of the smaller offices. It really wasn’t very big at all, just enough to have a small table and four seats in it, likely one of the tiny meeting rooms that littered a place like this. “You met a girl?” he repeated carefully. “I’m going to presume that you wouldn’t look this nauseous if you actually… liked her? Do you want to date her?”

 

“No!” Chan said. “No. We have an anti-dating clause in our contracts, and I have like _no_ time for even thinking of girls, _hyung_. It’s just that we seem to be on this highway towards debut and things keep speeding up, and it’s like for a moment I looked outside the window of the bus and saw someone. I mean. It’s a little like that. I don’t really know _how_ to explain.”

 

“Just tell me in your own words.”

 

So he did, and at the end of it he felt lighter and freer, especially as Jiminie- _hyung_ hauled out the number of a friend of his with a dance studio. Or a soup kitchen. It sounded like both combined.

 

“This is important,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said with a serious look in his eyes. “Pay attention to this bit, okay? People can only be helped if they want to be helped. You can give the card with the number to her, but you can’t force her to do more than that. She might have problems you don’t know about, and you’re under a lot of stress yourself, okay? This is a time that you _have_ to concentrate on yourself too. Your _hyung_ s are stressed too.”

 

Chan snorted. “Tell me about it,” he muttered. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ keeps on calling me his baby, like that will somehow make it true, and if Mingyu- _hyung_ razzes us one more time about cleaning when it’s _not my turn_ …” He trailed off. “Sorry, _hyung_. I’m grateful for the opportunity, I really am. You have that wedding coming up, right? Did Jin- _hyung_ go for the strawberry-infused buttercream in the end? I liked that one.”

 

Jimin sighed and sat back. “He didn’t,” he muttered dolefully. “Too sweet, apparently, but! He did pick the lemony one – that was one of your favourites too, right?” At Chan’s nod, he grinned. “ _Hyung_ will bring you a piece of the cake. Now, I won’t be here for the next week, but you have my number if anything happens. Look after your _hyung_ s for me, and see if you like that diet plan better than the other one.”

 

Feeling a little relieved, Chan nodded, saluting sharply. “Lee Chan on the mission, _hyung_!” he grinned. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

 

=============================================

 

He took her coffee for the next day, and the next, and the pattern continued the same whether he brought out cookies or black bean noodles or fried chicken. She ate what he provided, seemingly too hungry for speech, and he had had all his emotions stripped and laid bare by debut stress. He didn’t even remember to give her the number until the third day.

 

A week later, when he went she wasn’t there, and he turned right back. In his frustration at having his break disturbed, his preteens of doing something nice that wasn’t all about the band, about him or the others or their success, he curled up on the sofa in the small room after studies, making an impromptu pillow of his arm.

 

Sleep came shockingly easy, and in it he dreamt that he was in an abandoned amusement part. It was absolutely macabre, and he was sure it came straight from that game that Mingyu- _hyung_ had suckered him into playing. The mournful melody of the wind against the squeak of the Ferris wheel grated against his nerves. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see until he stepped around an old shack and suddenly he was on the rocks at the edge of a desolate beach.

 

The wind buffeted his thin frame, whipping the loose shirt back against him so that it outlined his body. There was something in the churning sea, in the bruised sky, and the beating of a thousand wings behind him, and he screamed himself awake in sheer fright.

 

He sat up, feeling a blanket slither off him. As he checked his phone, he realised he was shivering and frightened and sweating like a pig. He peeled himself out of his sweatshirt with shaking hands and swung his heels off the sofa, sinking his fingers into his hair. For a moment he wished savagely that he was as tall and strong as Seungcheol- _hyung_. Or even as tall as Jun- _hyung_ with his whipcord muscles and predatory way of walking.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath and assessed himself. His nerves were frayed, absolutely on edge, and he was going to punch the first person that said something to him. Grabbing his things, he made for the bathroom his lot usually shared, got out the cleaning supplies and got to it. An hour later, almost one in the morning, he finally felt calm enough to sneak out the back.

 

He snuck out the door and turned to walk, almost falling over his feet. The girl was there again, seated on the back step, a tiny bundle against the wind that sliced coldly through the alley. By now his actions were so ingrained that he didn’t even think. Instead, he wandered that way, pulling the buds out of his ears, and sunk down next to her on the tiny step. Even that didn’t make the cold more bearable, so he took refuge in practicality as well as what remained of his gentlemanly behaviour: he pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, then used her body to hide from the wind.

 

For the first time in his life it didn’t work. Seated as she was she was smaller than him, so the wind tugged and dragged cold fingers through his nightmare-sweaty hair, chilling him. Still, he didn’t take the jacket back, not when he saw how she burrowed in it, how a film of being content covered her moonlit face as she tugged it close enough to inhale at the collar.

 

It was an oddly intimate action that made him swallow and shiver again. He started digging through his pack to cover it up, finally coming up with his emergency pack of dried fruit pieces for long nights, as well as a bootleg energy drink that he had been withstanding for five days now. He opened the drink for her and handed it over, and she clutched it close despite the chill in the air.

 

“Why are you being so nice?” Her voice didn’t sound thick anymore, but rubbed thin like old velvet that’s been kept a little too long. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this. I don’t even know your name.”

 

“It’s not about you,” he said after a great deal of thought. He couldn’t explain how treating her like a human being made him feel as if he could control one shitty thing about his life, or that he’d actually like not to have nightmares about her freezing in a park somewhere, or even just that he considered her good karma.

 

She seemed to accept that with the same slump-shouldered look that she always had, but there was light enough that he could see her hands shaking around the thin can, or the way she stuck a piece of dried fruit in her mouth to stop the sound of choking, tearing sobs. Lyrics floated in his mind suddenly, and he had a picture of that same dark amusement park in his head, but through it traced two butterflies made of glimmering light, flashing and twining together and shedding light on everything.

 

His throat choked at the imagery, and inspiration shot through him painfully, cutting like a knife against bruised emotions.

 

That night he stayed for a long time, and if he had his hand on her shoulders, his body against hers as she cried and cried, no one saw them.


	6. Chapter 6

Yoongi looked at the phone that buzzed on the work table next to him, frowning a little at the contact name that came up. It wasn’t often that anyone texted him from his friend circle; he saw all of them often enough that it wasn’t necessary, and if he had to be in that meme-filled chat group the maknae line had, he’d pull his hair out on a daily basis. Seeing Jin’s name made him feel uneasy; out of habit he checked the link in the back of his mind for Jimin’s wellbeing.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he murmured as he picked it up, frowning a little at the mixer programme as he saved his progress. “Is something amiss?”

 

“Yoonie,” Jin said breathlessly. “I’m so glad I caught you. I have a huge favour to ask you. Can I come over to that entertainment company of yours? It’s going to be better face-to-face.”

 

Yoongi blinked, boggling at the phone. “Uh… if you wish? Do you know the address?” _Yoonie? What the hell?_

 

“Mhm, I’ll be there in a few.”

 

The phone-call ended, leaving him more confused than ever. He appreciated Jin, was friends with him, but having the _baksu_ actually ask a favour was vanishingly rare.

 

Not five minutes later one of the production assistants knocked gently on his door, peeking inside. “Oppa,” she said sweetly. “There’s a man asking for you at reception. He says he’s Kim Seokjin, shall I have him escorted up?”

 

“Face like a model and tall as a tree?” he checked.

 

“That’s the one… I’ll have him sent up and bring you some coffee, it’ll be in the Lavender room, okay?”

 

Just a few minutes later they were seated in a small conference room, staring at each other across cups of coffee.

 

“You know,” Jin murmured, “Somehow I can see you fitting in here, even in that … whatever that is that you have on. Didn’t Jiminie buy you a few pairs of pants?”

 

Yoongi just looked at him, sipping his coffee slowly. “This is how you ask for a favour?” he muttered back sarcastically, grinning at the piqued look on Jin’s face. “We can’t all be models, you know. I’m happy in my jeans and hoodies.”

 

Jin gave an aggrieved sigh. “Fi-iiine. The group of tenors that was going to sing for us caught strep throat on the way back from their last engagement. I’m pressing the children into singing for us, but I really wanted trained vocalists as we entered the wedding hall, Yoonie. I wanted to ask if I could borrow your kids. I know it’s close to their debut, but it’ll just be for a few hours, and I’ll feed them to make up for it, and pay you the appearance fee that we agreed upon for the tenors.”

 

 

Blinking, Yoongi tilted his head. “You want the band to sing on your wedding?” he asked. “Out of sheer curiosity, how much did you book the group of tenors for?”

 

“Two and a half million,” Jin said without batting an eyelash. “That’s transport fees, insurance, stayover fees here, and naturally the appearance itself, each of them was set to get about half a million. I’m guessing that your company has insurance already, and they won’t need a hotel.”

 

Yoongi nodded approvingly. “That’s kind of cheap, I didn’t think they’d fly for two and a half million won, where are they from?”

 

Jin clicked his tongue. “No, Yoonie, two and a half million dollars. No one’s going to fly for that amount of won.”

 

Yoongi promptly coughed, choking on a sip of coffee as his mind translated that into the currency he was used to. It sprayed, luckily not onto Jin, but he had to haul a complimentary tissue basket closer to clear up. “What?” he asked incredulously. “That’s over… over two billion won? What the hell, are their throats made of platinum or something? That’s almost what established idol groups get per concert, and that’s two hours long at least! You could get Big Bang for that!”

 

“I don’t want Big Bang, I want your kids because I know them and like them.” Jin’s expression morphed into a slight grin. “Is it that you don’t think I have the money, or that I was prepared to pay that for an act lasting maybe fifteen minutes?”

 

“Both, fuck my life.”

 

Jin’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t exactly scold you for language,” he said repressively. “But I’m thinking it really, really loudly. Will you be able to do it?”

 

“I’ll have to ask the president and their managers,” Yoongi said weakly. “But I can’t imagine anyone saying no to that. If you can hold on an hour or so I’ll go and ask, or… wait, no. Go home or they’ll try to recruit you. I’ll SMS you and let you know.”

 

“But I wanted a tour!”

 

Yoongi snorted. “Tough luck. Go and be pretty somewhere else. You’ll only distract my staff.” He paused. “Since you hijacked my boyfriend, give him a hug from me, okay?”

 

Jin left laughing his windshield wiper laugh, and Yoongi had the feeling he’d pause everywhere to infect the place with his dad jokes. Oddly, just seeing him and thinking of those miserable puns made him feel happier. Love, even fraternally, could be a strange thing.

 

=======================================================

 

That evening, gathering everyone in the tiny dorm living room for a group meeting, Seungcheol cleared his throat. “We’ve been booked for an event,” he said happily to the twelve faces arrayed in front of him. “I’m not sure how the managers decided it, but it came down from the president. Everyone still remembers Kim Seokjin, right?”

 

“The Jin- _hyung_ that’s getting married?” Wonwoo questioned. “We had some of his cake testers. The one that healed Soonyoung- _hyung_.”

 

Seungcheol nodded. “We’ve been hired to sing at his wedding,” he mumbled. “I feel kind of bad. Even though we owe him a lot, he’s paying a booking fee. Apparently the entertainers that he hired fell sick at the last moment, and he’s making the _hyung_ s sing, but he wants us as well.”

 

Jeonghan tilted his head. “And the managers approved it? That seems strange.”

 

“I got a look at the booking form,” their leader said. “It, uh, had the EFT transfer slip attached to it. It’s paid and everything. It’s real.”

 

Seokmin leant forward eagerly, expression bright. “How much?” he asked breathlessly. “How much are we worth? I mean, did the prez charge him the friendship fee or a real fee?”

 

“Two and a half billion won,” Seungcheol said.

 

Everyone boggled at that, clamouring for attention, speaking over each other, interrogating the people around them, speculating, creating a deafening noise until he cleared his throat again, raising his voice. “Pipe down! That’s not going to be typical especially for the next few years. We’ll still have to stay here, we’ll still have to work off our training debt, although this will help a lot. Jihoon-ah, you’ll be in charge of what songs we’re going to sing, I’ll get you Jin- _hyung_ ’s number so we can vet them. Soonyoung-ah, I know it’s short notice, but there’s going to be a ton of international guests there, will you be able to choreograph something for us?”

 

“Aye!” Soonyoung called, sticking up a thumb as he smiled a big, cheesy grin. “A cover would probably be the quickest. I’ll work with Jihoon-ah on it, count on us!”

 

Seungcheol nodded. “Vocalists… I want you sleeping with humidifiers on from now on, take good care of your throats. Rappers, I’m gonna need something witty – we need to blow these people away so that they remember us in the future. Kpop is increasingly popular globally, so this is like an audition ok? Everyone that can speak a foreign language, I expect you to prepare a greeting. So… Spanish for Jisoo-ya, English for Hansol-ah, Cantonese for Jun-ah, Mandarin for Minghao-ah…. Anyone else?”

 

Chan’s hand shot into the air. “I can try Japanese, _hyung_ , I’ve been studying it!” he said eagerly.

 

Seungkwan nodded too. “Or… or how about we toss the most represented languages in a pot, and each person not on the list in the band picks one and prepares a greeting?” he asked, smacking his hand down on Vernon’s thigh happily. “It’ll be fun, almost like on a variety show!”

 

“That’s an excellent idea,” Jeonghan approved as Seungcheol nodded. “Ask Jiminie- _hyung_ for a language list.”

 

“Is this… is this going to be somewhere magical?” Mingyu asked curiously. “If so, will we be allowed in? Will there be any strange etiquette?”

 

Seungcheol smiled at him. “Excellent question. I’ll ask the _hyung_ s as well.”

 

Seungkwan waved his hand in the air again, looking happier than he had in a long time. “The wedding colours are pink, antique cream and grey, I’ve seen one of the invites! I could show some pictures to the stylists so that we can coordinate?”

 

“I’m leaving clothes to you and to Minghao-ah then,” Seungcheol laughed. “He’s the most stylish. It seems everyone is excited, so unit leaders, I’ll expect a list of songs from you by tomorrow, and let me know if you need time to write something special. Soonyoung-ah, unfortunately we only have a week, and we’ll have to fit it in around everything else. It doesn’t need to be too intricate, and just one number.”

 

“I’ll put in maximum effort!” Soonyoung said, grinning like a happy hamster. “Leave it to the performance team!”

 

Seungcheol tilted his head, shooting him a thumbs-up. “Alright,” he said kindly. “Everyone scoot, we’ve got loads to do.”

 

=================================================

 

“Someone’s got a bounce in his step,” Hansol remarked as Seungkwan practically danced to their study corner, hauling their schoolwork with him. “Are you excited, Boo?”

 

Seungkwan pouted. “How can you not be? We’re going to be performing in front of so many people, and there’s going to be dancing and wonderful clothes and magic in the air. Real magic! Not shitty appearances by long-dead grandmothers to spoil our day!” He plunked the books down, pulling his phone closer. “I’m going to forward the invitation to Minghao- _hyung_ so he can see what we’re working with, and then ask Jiminie- _hyung_ … oh look! Here. These are the cakes they decided on! Aren’t they beautiful?”

 

Hansol propped his chin up on his hand, scooting closer to get a look. “Beautiful,” he agreed, privately considering the arch of Seungkwan’s cheekbone as he laughed, finding it vastly more beautiful. “Do you think they’ll let me take a piece of cake for Sophia?”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes rounded. “Oh! Oh, we have to, and some of the sugar flowers as well! I’m sure Jin- _hyung_ will say yes! We should take lots and lots of photos, if we’re allowed.”

 

Hansol opened his mathematics book. “You can be in them,” he muttered. “I’ll take them, _hyung_.” He paused thoughtfully. “You seem a little bit happier,” he muttered. “Better than a few days ago.” He still wanted to kill that woman. “How’s your head?”

 

“Well, part of it is that new diet Jiminie- _hyung_ brought us,” Seungkwan said as he frowned down at his English text. “I’m fine! Stop worrying. I…. how do you say this word?”

 

Hansol glanced sideways. “Architecture,” he said slowly.

 

“Strange,” Seungkwan marvelled. “Anyway, we talked a little as well, and he straightened some stuff out. The nightmares are getting less though, so that dreamcatcher your mother bought me really seems to help!”

 

“I’ll have to find another reason to cuddle now.” Hansol gripped his pencil tightly, only half-aware of what his mouth said as he worked through a calculus problem. It snagged enough of his attention that he was unaware of the half-wondering, half-amused look his friend sent him. “Can you help me with a pop quiz later on?”

 

“Yes, sure,” Seungkwan said, secretly happy.

 

========================================================

 

Chan gaped around himself as he walked into the apartment complex’s courtyard from the van that had brought them there for the small wedding rehearsal, eyes wide. It looked so _normal_ , but there was a woman with the body of a snake coiled up to one side, sunning on a large rock, and there a _tengu!_ Soonyoung- _hyung_ was storming at a cat the size of a small lion with his arms open, and there was something in the air. Something… something _crystalline_ , hard to quantify, but it stung at his eyes and popped in his brain like liquid sunlight.

 

A hand moved to rest on his nape and he looked sideways at Jun- _hyung_ ’s smiling face.

 

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” his _hyung_ asked kindly.

 

The touch soothed him, anchoring him a little, and he managed a huge smile. “Yes, _hyung_. I… oh, does Minghao- _hyung_ known the lady?”

 

Jun looked over where he pointed. “I don’t think so?” he said as he watched Minghao bowing and chattering happily to the snake-woman. “But I think he’s happy that he has a chance to speak Mandarin perhaps. At least Soonyoung- _hyung_ is fitting in, and I think if Seungkwan-ah pulls any harder, Hansol-ah will actually take flight...”

 

Chan gaped again as Jimin- _hyung_ , Taehyung- _hyung_ and Kookie- _hyung_ came walking from the forest. “ _Hyung_ , _hyung_ ,” he got out in a pinched whisper. “Look! They’ve got a lion with them! It’s massive, but… scales! Look at its scales shine in the light!”

 

Jun just laughed and shook his head, pushing him forward towards the group. To one side, Soonyoung- _hyung_ was still chattering a mile a million to the cat, with every evidence that he was getting a reply, and Jeonghan- _hyung_ had wandered over to talk to the snake lady as well, with Mingyu- _hyung_ and Wonwoo- _hyung_ slowly trying to speak to the _tengu_ , though they were bowing more than actually speaking. Of all the people, it was Jisoo- _hyung_ that hung back most, so he went over to stand next to him, receiving a small smile in return.

 

Many minutes later, as they clustered around their _hyung_ s, Jiminie- _hyung_ took care of the introductions. “Everyone, this is Kim Namjoon, one of the grooms,” he said, one hand on the scale-covered lion’s huge shoulder. “He’ll… ah.” He removed his hand as the lion changed shape right there in front of them, becoming a tall, kind-looking man. “He’s my _appa_.” He grinned as they bowed. “And you know Tae-tae and Kookie, right? They offered to help take you to the court, but it’s just an offer for those that want to, you don’t need to feel pressured…”

 

“…what Shortie- _hyung_ means is that he’s scared of heights and speed and we love it,” Jungkook said, dodging a kick from Jimin. “For those that like rollercoasters, you can come with me, and those that like speed can go with Tae. You’ll be very safe, but you’re on our territory now, so we thought we could show off a little.”

 

“For those _sane_ members of your group who respect heights as an imposing hurdle, you can wander back with Namjoon- _hyung_ and myself,” Jimin said. “But really, if you like excitement, go with them.”

 

The members moved at once, practically causing a stampede. Dino managed to get to the front of the queue for Jungkook- _hyung_ by means of several discreet elbows, ducking under the others, and almost tripping Wonwoo- _hyung_. Of all of them, it was only Jeonghan, Jisoo, Vernon and Minghao that didn’t line up in front of one of the two.

 

Tae- _hyung_ looked at the line in front of him – Seungkwan, Mingyu, Seungcheol and Junhui – measuringly, then shot Jungkook a triumphant look. “Piece of cake,” he boasted. “We’re gonna beat your ass like a drum, Kookie.” He motioned to them to stay there, then started backing up. “Let’s make the trip down to Jeju and back, just to make it some kind of challenge. No booming!”

 

Chan gaped again as something… well, something _happened_ , something that his mind didn’t quite want to understand. Tae- _hyung_ was between one step and another when he changed somehow, growing into a gigantic fox-like creature with markings on his face and nine fox-tails behind him. He bounded in place for a moment or two before catching Seungkwan in one of his tails, wiggling him through the air and plopping him down on his back. The other three soon followed suit as Jimin face-palmed, shaking his head slowly.

 

“Shields!” he shouted. “You break it, you bought it, and if people see you and think that you’re a UFO, I’m telling Jin- _hyung_!”

 

Dino turned from that spectacle to stare at Jungkook- _hyung_ , wide-eyed. “ _Hyung_ , do you turn into a fox too?” he asked breathlessly. “That is so cool, I wish I could as well!”

 

Jungkook’s bunny smile appeared as he grinned at him. “Tae-jagi is a _gumiho_ ,” he explained. “And no. I’m like a _million times cooler._ ”

 

Over in the corner, the tengu expressively rolled his eyes, and the cat sitting at Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s side let out a very telling, very blasé ‘meh’.

 

“Come on, muscle bunny,” Jimin- _hyung_ coaxed. “Stop drawing out the tension and just show them.”

 

Jungkook sniffed and gave a few steps backwards as well, body arching over backwards into a handstand, then a couple of flicks, until he stood on the _air_ somehow and his body had turned into a huge, black-as-night dragon, with ripples of stars picking out points of brilliance along each scale of his hide. He didn’t have a moustache, but had five claws on each of his numerous legs, and his body rippled and weaved through the air as if he drifted in water.

 

Dino nearly passed out when it came time for him to clamber on, but clamber on he did, with Jihoon- _hyung_ just behind him, then Soonyoung- _hyung_ behind him, and finally Wonwoo- _hyung_ and Seokmin- _hyung_ bringing up the back. The back felt broad, smooth and warm underneath his legs, but something stuck him there, and he could see a shimmer as they started coiling into the air. It was _exactly_ like a rollercoaster, the highest, smoothest one he had ever been on.

 

 _Ready?_ Jungkook- _hyung_ asked, but didn’t give them a moment to answer, because the second they got high into the air Tae- _hyung_ took off running at speed, much faster than a car could travel.

 

It was the wildest ride he had ever been on, that ten minutes from Seoul to Jeju and back to Seoul, and he was simultaneously high from adrenaline, nauseous beyond belief and shaking as they finally landed in the courtyard of a palace in a national park he wouldn’t have known was there – it was a little like that Black Panther movie, in which what looked like a hologram cloaked the buildings. He teetered off, hopping and bouncing to get his legs working again, before he turned to support a crying Seokmin- _hyung_ off.

 

One hour’s visit turned into two, then three before they had to go, and Dino knew he would remember that magical time forever.

 

======================================================

 

Jun wandered in one of the far gardens at Bukhansan with Minghao, feeling tension rill down his spine. Here, in a magical environment, his senses were increased to the fullness his training allowed, but it was Minghao that worried him. He was holding shielding tight for them both, and was sweating a bit from the unusual effort. They hadn’t been in a magical environment so long the young Wuist shaman was hideously out of practice.

 

“Not long now,” he muttered, checking the sun’s slant. “They said they would…”

 

He broke off as a tall, graceful man wandered towards them through a curtain of falling cherry blossoms. His movement was impossibly smooth and calculated, the strut of a predator pretending to be prey. Finding them, he bowed low and smooth. The face he wore was handsome, but likely not his real one – it rarely was.

 

“Jun-ge,” the man greeted in that bow, directing a shallower one to Minghao, exquisite courtesy serving as insult. Though powerful in his own right, as a part of the Xu family he was only a bodyguard, a blood-servant to the older line of power the Wen family laid claim to. Their mundane aliases were custom works, intricately prepared to withstand scrutiny, and he _still_ didn’t know why Minghao came to Korea beyond his stated aim of becoming an entertainer.

 

“Your parents send their greetings and affections,” the man continued. “But there are also sad tidings; the Yùlóng have taken an interest in this city after the recent, ah, _embarrassment_ that the delegation suffered here. Their net benefit was not as large as calculated.” His eyes shifted to Minghao. “You are to protect the young master at all costs. There are rumours that they have engaged the services of the one or more of the Four Immortal Kings.”

 

Jun’s blood ran cold. “Is it certain?” he asked tautly. “Which one?”

 

The man’s shoulder lifted, then fell. “Uncertain. Information is scarce.”

 

“Do my parents expect me to stand against one of the Four?” Minghao asked testily.

 

The man’s blink was as slow as a snake’s. “Yes,” he said. “You have been praised for ability and efficacy before, was there a lie in that?” His mouth-corner tilted up into a small, wicked smile. “Good day, Jun-ge.” He bowed and turned, leaving the same way he came, leaving them in a sudden flurry of fallen flower petals, raked to agitation by Minghao’s aura.

 

“Lock it down,” Jun murmured, hands moving to rest on Minghao’s shoulders. “The others can’t know what we are. Not… not yet.”

 

Minghao made an unhappy sort of noise as they turned back, and Jun didn’t blame him. The Four Immortal Kings were famous throughout China and known in some attached Asian countries: four assassins of the highest calibre, commanding the highest fees, no one lived to see their face or breathed another day if they did not will it so.

 

“Come on,” Jun finally said. “Let’s go back, Hao-hao.”

 

===================================================

 

 

“Jambo,” Wonwoo said experimentally, looking down at the phonetic transcription on the piece of paper he had drawn out of the cup. “Karibu na kuwa… karibisha kwen…ye harusi? Is that how you say it?” he asked curiously. “What language is this even?”

 

“It’s Kiswahili,” Seungkwan said. “The lady Jiminie- _hyung_ put me in touch with said there would be a sizeable mid-African presence at the wedding and it’s the most-spoken native language on the continent according to what I’ve been able to find. Or did you maybe want to try Arabic? I was gonna try speaking that one, but you can have it if you want it, _hyung_.”

 

“No!” Wonwoo said hastily. “No, this one will do.”

 

Seungkwan beamed at him and continued with his cup of linguistic nightmares. Ahead of him, the younger members looked apprehensive. Behind him, the older members eyeballed their selections, mumbling along to his writing.

 

======================================================

 

“Hoonie!” Soonyoung called as he dropped into the tiny studio Jihoon called his, a shoebox tucked away in the corner of the building. “Have you gotten the narrowed-down song list for us yet?”

 

_Hoonie?_

 

Jihoon wearily wondered when that had happened, but these days Soonyoung was like a little reactor spreading cuteness and warmth everywhere, and he didn’t have the energy to correct him. “Here,” he murmured, unlocking his phone and passing it along before he looked back to the screen and the breakdown of Rock he had been working on. “Messages, check the long conversation from Jin- _hyung_.”

 

Seconds later, hearing a camera, he grimaced. “ _Hyung_ ,” he protested. “I’m working.” Outside, the weather grumbled as the sky worked itself through a rainstorm. It wasn’t too warm, but the downpour outside made everything feel sticky and wet, so he hadn’t gotten much done, and he felt a little irritated and a lot tired.

 

“But you look so good in blonde, Hoonie, much better than me,” Soonyoung muttered. “I’m betting you didn’t show your parents.”

 

Jihoon struggled not to feel guilty. He really didn’t contact his parents as often as he could. “They’ll see at the showcase.” On a whim, he saved the project and pulled up one of his untitled ones, just the bare-bones of a melody and his voice here and there, filling in the lyrics he had written. “Here, take a listen, I need to stretch my legs, _hyung_.”

 

His walk took him to the staff kitchen, where Jiminie- _hyung_ had clearly had a chat with whoever stocked it, because the snacks had switched away from stuff like ramen and sweets and cereal to healthier options like nut bars, whatever the hell that brown jelly stuff was and fruit. There were even freshly sliced vegetables and low-fat dip in little bear-shaped containers, which made him long for an energy drink. He peered into the fridge, saw several and manfully resisted the urge to steal on, since all of them were labelled, going for a cup of blended green hell instead. It tasted faintly like grass, but it kept him going in the absence of caffeine.

 

When he returned to the studio Soonyoung was drooped over the table with his head on his arms, on his second or third play through.

 

“I love it,” he said softly, drawing out wiggly shapes with a fingertip on the mouse mat. “I mean, it’s not all there, but it’s kind of powerful and gentle at the same time. I don’t know if it’s a ballad, or a love song, or what.”

 

Jihoon swallowed uneasily at the gentle look on Soonyoung’s face, the flash of side-tilted eyes. “What do you think it is?” he asked uneasily.

 

Soonyoung sat up straight and hauled the headphones off. “I’ll have to think. But I hope I hear it again someday when it’s done, so that I can dance to it. Thanks for the list, I’ll dream something up.” He was gone in a whirl of movement and a head-ruffle, leaving Jihoon to stare after him with a confused look. Outside the thunder cracked and reverberated, seemingly echoing his inner turmoil.


	7. Chapter 7

Things turned busy in the dorm. Between the fittings, their normal school and their preparations for debut, there wasn’t much time to get anything done, so half the members were practicing and half were at the salon or lessons, and Seungkwan _loved_ it. He loved the feeling of being so busy he couldn’t think, loved the way that he could fall into bed tired and not dream of nacre palaces and whispering trees, of seeing his grandmother rot before his eyes.

 

It gave him new life and new energy – perhaps that was his new eating plan too – but he felt supercharged and happy as he poked his head into the small recording booth. The rappers were laying down tracks for ‘Fronting’, the hip-hop group’s contribution to Boys Be; his unit had had their chance with ‘When I Grow Up’ earlier. It was at times like these that he thought Jihoon- _hyung_ was either a mad genius or a robot, being able to help with so many things at once.

 

“Psssst, _hyung_! Seungcheol- _hyung_!” he whispered loudly into the room, beckoning the leader out. Waiting until the door closed again was hard, because he was excited, and he literally beamed at his _hyung_ as he stepped outside.

 

“Sunshine Seungkwan is back!” Seongcheol cheered happily. “It’s good to see my favourite _dongsaeng_ smiling again. What is it?”

 

“ _Hyung_ , has your unit done something for the wedding yet?” Seungkwan asked. “I mean, have you agreed on something? I had an idea that I could use a lot of deep voices for, but I can do it alone too if you guys are busy.”

 

“Not yet… what do you have in mind?”

 

Seungkwan turned his phone around. “The vocal unit is doing a version of Christina Perri’s Thousand Years, but I thought the hip-hop unit and Seokmin- _hyung_ and myself could do this one? It’s very traditional, look, and it’s about good luck after adversity.”

 

Seungcheol blinked, putting in one earphone to give it a thoughtful listen. “This is very different… do you think you’ll be able to sing all that, with the clicks?”

 

Seungkwan nodded a mile a minute. “I tested, and I can do them, but will you four be able to do the background vocals and dancing with me?”

 

His _hyung_ gave a long-suffering sigh and a sweet smile, ruffling his hair before poking his cheek. “Write it down phonetically and I’ll run it past the guys, okay?”

 

“Will do!” Seungkwan yelled over his shoulder as he ran away to join his own practice. “Thanks, _hyung_!”

 

===================================================

 

“Mingyu-ah,” Wonwoo called as they left the practice room, both sweating like pigs from the intense workout session. “How’s the German going? Trade you?”

 

Mingyu slowed down, smiled at his _hyung_ , and shook his head. “Not unless it’s an order from one of the manager- _hyung_ s,” he said cheekily. “I’ve heard you murder the poor language, I’m not going to try the same.”

 

Wonwoo paused, about to say something snarky, when he looked up. “Have you grown taller again? Damn it, Mingyu-ah, leave some growth for the rest of us. Or do you want to piggy-back the rest of us the rest of your life?”

 

Grinning, Mingyu reached out to rest his arm on Wonwoo’s shoulders. “I can’t help it, _hyung_. Jihoon- _hyung_ yelled at me as well earlier. But I’d settle for swapping with you if you give me a piggy-back ride for the rest of the week.”

 

“No linguistic torture is worth that,” Wonwoo said drily. “Get away from me, you sweaty beanpole. We’d better move it, or we won’t get into the bathroom before Joshua- _hyung_.”

 

=========================================================

 

They posed and turned, adjusting their expressions only slightly, and Hansol wanted to scream. It felt like a mask he had to pull on, the Vernon-face, and the curls in his too-long hair irritated him, and he felt anxiety rise in him. Everyone was excited, too excited – it drummed in his head like a refrain from a shatter-metal song – and it hazed in front of his eyes. The studio they shot in went away, replaced by the rank smell of a dark alley and a tall man. He wasn’t scared at all; his hands were in the man’s stomach to his wrists, coated with blood and gore, and his eyelids fluttered beatifically as he listened to the whispers, the gasps as breath left him.

 

Gagging, he managed to wrench himself free and pinch his lips shut a little, staring into the camera photographing them. Minutes later, when he was finally released to go to the bathroom, he had to run not to get sick all over himself, and prayed that whatever it was would pass by him quickly.

 

“Hansol-ah?”

 

The voice was too delicate and reserved to be anyone but Joshua- _hyung_. He watched him come closer in his peripheral vision, felt the warm hand on the nape of his neck.

 

“Vernon, are you okay?” English, and quickly and softly spoken, to keep their conversation from any inconvenient spectators.

 

Hansol swallowed and shook his head. “That new diet,” he tried to joke. “I think I might have eaten too much of the _konnyaku_ , that stuff is disgusting.” He fell silent as Joshua’s fingers travelled up from the nape of his neck to his hair, gripping lightly. It wasn’t sore, not at all, more just a pleasant pinch to remind him that there was someone else. It made him sigh and try again. “I don’t think I’m over what happened.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to be, this quickly. I’m half-amazed the rest are walking around as they are,” Joshua murmured. “I’m always here if you want to talk, Hansol-ah. For the moment, let’s get out of the bathroom and go back to the dorm, hm? Maybe you can have a quiet moment before the rest arrive for dinner.”

 

Hansol exhaled and nodded, pulling on his public face again.

 

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he thanked his lucky stars that Seungkwan was okay. It felt as if the older boy had become an obsession almost; it wasn’t about suspecting that he was gay, though that was frightening as hell, but an actual obsession, where he worried constantly if he was okay, or happy enough, or that those terrible circles under his eyes didn’t return.

 

He was so worried that he didn’t notice the look Joshua gave as they padded down the corridor, or the way he caught Seungcheol’s eye on the way out.

 

=========================================================

 

“I’m worried,” Jisoo said quietly to Seungcheol and Jeonghan, close enough that he didn’t have to whisper to avoid waking the rest of the boys – for once they had a full house, with even Soonyoung and Woozi already in bed. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but Hansol-ah nearly had a panic attack in front of the camera today. He barely made it to the bathroom before he got sick. I’m not sure if it’s pressure or something else.”

 

Seungcheol rubbed at his eyes. “This magic stuff is a _huge_ inconvenience. I thought I’d just have to worry about hormones and puberty and stuff.”

 

Jeonghan snorted as he handed the brush over to Jisoo as the latter’s hand beckoned for it, and turned a little to let the American comb his hair smooth. Long hair might be a nasty snarl to deal with mostly, but he loved moments like these. “You still have to deal with that, Cheollie, just wait until debut is over and the stress lifts a little.” His lips pursed. “I’m worried about Hansol as well. I was going to ask Jiminie- _hyung_ to look at him after the wedding, because I don’t think it’s the stress getting to him. His thoughts are very muddy these days, like he’s slowly drowning.”

 

“It bothers me that he’s in Seungkwan’s pockets so much these days,” Seungcheol added. “Even on camera, he’s always touching him, or lurking, or staring… it’s like he doesn’t even realise it. It’s getting a bit beyond skinship. I...” He blinked at an expression shifting across Jeonghan’s face. “Hannie? What is it?”

 

Jeonghan transferred his gaze to the kitchen instead, eyes shifting in that ‘I am irritated and mad but won’t tell you’ way he had. “Nothing? Can’t I look at you?”

 

“Hannie…” This time it was Jisoo, who stilled his hands to drop them to Jeonghan’s shoulders. “Come on.”

 

Yoon Jeonghan might have been resistant to Seungcheol’s enquiry, but Jisoo’s gentle one made him deflate. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to say, but you remember when Seungkwan came back sick from the complex that one time? It’s because something dangerous happened, and he got badly hurt.”

 

“Hannie!” Disapproving this time. “You should have told us! But what does this have to do with Hansol-ah?”

 

More silence. “Hannie,” Seungcheol tried. “Come on. We promised to protect these boys together when the band was nailed down. We failed with DD, Ming Ming, Dongjinnie and Samuel, do you want that kind of situation again?”

 

“Low blow, Choi,” Jeonghan gritted out, going from angel-face to irritated in a flat second. “They were bonded. It broke under bad circumstances. It’s a _long_ story, but there’s cause. Speak to Jiminie- _hyung_ , but don’t you dare tell them to let go of each other, okay? Don’t you _dare_.” Grabbing his brush, he scooted off the couch and stamped towards his room, almost slamming the door behind him.

 

“Choi Seungcheol,” Jisoo said very calmly and very quietly. “I love you like a brother, but if you _ever_ fling that at him again, I will personally punch you myself. You weren’t the only one that got hurt when DD… when our friends left.” With rather more grace, he got up and made his way to bed as well, leaving Seungcheol to brood on the couch.

 

==================================================

 

_It’s hard to be here_

_It’s hard not to fear_

_Because I’m a tiger in a patterned sea_

_Lost in the concept of me_

_Sinking in a patterned sea_

_Grey turns black_

_My tongue twists to_

_whispers on the wind_

_And I sink so deep_

_Beneath the patterned sea_

 

Woozi stared at the page of scribbled lyrics Hansol had just handed him; it wasn’t the front page’s assignment that worried him, but the cramped scribble of words on the back, squeezed down into one corner as if he either didn’t know he was writing it, or he was ashamed of it. They had collaborated numerous times, and the young rapper had a fine grasp of structure and what would work in a song. This… well, this was quite different.

 

It wasn’t the words, or the way they were arranged. Those were fine, if a little clumsy. It was the fact that it read more as a ballad than a rap that got him, that and the topic matter. It made his stomach churn a bit with worry. It didn’t stop his mind from suggesting a tune, a slow, mournful, soulful thing that he wouldn’t be able to put on their albums for a good couple of years, if they made it that far.

 

It had the potential of great beauty, but also great loss, and it made him wonder what was going on in Hansol-ah’s mind.

 

===========================================================

 

Seungcheol prayed for energy, all the while keeping a smile on his face for the crowd around them. They were at some kind of publicity slash competition event outside a mall in Apgujeong-dong, and it was an absolute crush. They had their heavy hitters out in the front: Jeonghan and Jisoo were making pretty for the camera, which left him trying to herd Soonyoung and Chan. He could understand why his grandmother called raising kids like herding cats into a bag. It made him thank his lucky stars that the rest were all at a fitting for the wedding.

 

There were quite a couple of bands milling around, and fans thick around the perimeter; he could see the _hyung_ s from Nu’est over on the other side, and had just about debated circling around to go and say hello when the music coming from the dance competition dancefloor changed into a heavy, thumping beat that reminded him of that time in the b-boy club. It had been ballads and poppy songs until then.

 

Chan seemed to appear out of _nowhere_ , tugging on his sleeve. “ _Hyung_!” he whispered. “ _Hyung_ , come and see this, there’s this girl that’s dancing against Soonyoung- _hyung_ and she’s _keeping up_ …”

 

Seungcheol blinked down at their maknae. Soonyoung was one of the best dancers and definitely the best choreographer he had ever met; he kept his talents off the stage mostly these days, leaving it to the other three in the performance unit, which was entirely a shame. “Where?”

 

Chan answered by pulling him back into the crowd he had been getting out of, and acted a little like an ice-breaker, making a way with his powerful little body.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected to see on the square, but it wasn’t Soonyoung with sweat-wet hair and a devilish grin standing opposite a girl almost as tall as he whilst the crowd cheered and chanted. He couldn’t see her features, given that she had a snapback pulled down to cast her face in shadow, but her body said everything that needed to be said, really. Slim and lithe, dressed in a baggy sweatshirt, leggings and ragged combat boots.

 

The music changed to SHINee’s Lucifer, and holy hell, she was _keeping up with Soonyoung_. Her dance style was strange, totally not like that of the girls he knew. The crowd was going wild, and Channie’s laughter was more carefree than he had heard in a long while.

 

Like apparently everyone else he had expected her to preen and pose as the song ended, but what happened was infinitely stranger. Soonyoung-ah said something to her, and her body jerked with the shock, as if she had been in her own little world. Her head whipped around and for a moment her body stiffened before she turned to the side and got the hell out of Dodge. She twisted and turned, pushed through bodies with active, frantic force, and left the crowd buzzing as she ran away.

 

Seungcheol stared after her, left with the impression of wide, frightened eyes, and wondered why his heart felt so weak.

 

=================================================

 

Chan wasn’t sure why he ran after the girl from the dance competition; she wasn’t _his_ girl, but tremble to her shoulders as she brushed past him was the same. It was surprisingly further than he thought it would be before he caught up with her again, almost around the fat curve of the mall to the nearest train station.

 

She whirled around as he reached for her shoulder, almost taking his hand off in the process, and he hopped back, yelping. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he said, hands held up. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I just…” His shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to say that that was the best dancing I’ve ever seen out of anyone untrained. You almost danced Soonyoung- _hyung_ into the ground!”

 

She pulled herself up straight from her fear-born slouch – like this she was almost half a hand taller – and stared at him for a long time before she nodded. “It’s okay. I just got a fright.” Her head tilted a little. “Soonyoung- _hyung_? The blonde with the tiger-eyes? He was taking it easy on me.” Scrubbing her hands on her ratty jacket, she looked over her shoulder. “Shit. Look, not that I’m not sorry, but… I really have to go.”

 

Chan stared as she spoke, half entranced. Her voice wasn’t loud, but he was a singer, he could hear the resonance and clarity in it. Suddenly, from left field, he wanted to hear her sing with Seungkwan- _hyung_. “They’re scouting out there, you know?” he said in an effort to get her to stay. “I’m sure that they’d want to scout you, you’re a really good dancer.”

 

“Not interested,” she said shortly and turned away to leave.

 

“Wait!” he yelled. One hand dug into his pockets, searching around frantically before he produced one of Hobi- _hyung_ ’s cards. He had begged another one off Jiminie- _hyung_ , just in case his alley coffee girl had thrown it away, but something told him this one needed it here too. “Here. Um, even if you don’t want to become an idol, come and check it out, okay? It’s a dance club not far from here. It’s free.” He bobbed low in a respectful bow. “You danced very well, noona! Have a nice day further!”

 

Few people could stay angry in the face of Chan’s concentrated cuteness; this one looked mildly shocked, but took the card and ran off to the station, leaving him there feeling rather odd, like he had done something right in the world.

 

 _Time to go back to the stage,_ his mind prodded. _You don’t want the hyungs worried._


	8. Chapter 8

The day of the wedding reception arrived, and even as Seungkwan woke up it felt special somehow, like there was a celebratory tint to the air not everyone could sense. Seungmin- _hyung_ had arrived early to wake them up, marshalling them into two different salons that had somehow been greased into opening early. He barely had time to get the breakfast that he was used to these days, to say nothing of a glass full of the disgusting juiced vegetable mix Jin- _hyung_ had suggested for his specific needs. Still, the fifteen minutes to the salon went well enough, with Dino leaning against his shoulder and Hansol’s arm around his shoulders, so he didn’t feel too bad.

 

About an hour later, as he saw the temporary cotton-candy pink that Jihoon- _hyung_ got, he nibbled the last crust of the breakfast salad, sipped the last of the smoothie and made a mental note to go that colour sometime.

 

The day developed like rapid-fire clockwork: hair done, makeup done, getting into the suits Minghao- _hyung_ had chosen with the stylists, some publicity photos. He felt handsome: his face hadn’t been this slim in years, yet he didn’t feel as if he was starving, the makeup artist had praised his complexion, and he had the pleasure of taking a few candid snaps of Hansol in his warm grey suit, complete with cream waistcoat and pink tie. It felt like a good start to a good day.

 

Hours later, upon being dropped off at the complex, he wanted to gape at the crowd of people wandering about. There were so many colours, so many languages that he got dizzy from trying to trace all the accents, and the remnants of the bird-maiden’s power that slept in him woke up slowly, took a breath, relaxed for the first time in weeks. He took another breath, just because he could, and felt his shoulders relax.

 

From what he could tell as Seungcheol- _hyung_ marshalled them into the complex, there were only four gates that the people entered through, thus the deluge of people. They didn’t have that option. Rather, sneaking up the stairs to Jin- _hyung_ ’s apartment, they had to undergo the scrutiny of not only the groom, but his group of groom’s men: Jimin- _hyung_ , Yoongi- _hyung_ and Taehyung- _hyung_ , all of which looked radiantly happy.

 

He thought Jin would just okay them as a group. Instead, wandering around in what looked like an extremely expensive set of lounging pyjamas, he went over them individually, sometimes tweaking hair, sometimes adjusting the slant of a tie. Coming to him, he bestowed a warm smile on him, and held out his hand. “You look happy, Seungkwan-ah, how are you feeling?”

 

Seungkwan grinned at him. “Less tired these days, _hyung_ , and congratulations on getting married.” He lifted his braceleted arm, tried not to feel like it was some kind of supernatural lo-jack, and put it on Jin- _hyung_ ’s palm. “You’re going to love the program. Thank you for giving us a chance.”

 

Jin looked down at his wrist, sweeping a thumb against the knobby wrist-bone, and eyeballed the bracelet that appeared. “I know,” he said simply. “And hmm, you’re healing well, I can see that. Your soul is slowly stretching to fill the parts that left, but they’re meshing more congruently than I thought – you’ve been doing your medication exercises, I see! How are things going otherwise – exam prep, the debut? Any concerns?”

 

“All’s going well,” Seungkwan promised. “Fewer nightmares, my mind is getting better too, and my concentration is going well! I just wish my throat would really decide what range it wants to be. I feel like a weird superhero with voice powers.” His eyes twitched, not turning fully to the youngest two, but enough that Jin- _hyung_ saw the twitch and nodded imperceptibly.

 

“Alright!” Jin- _hyung_ said as he dropped his arm. “Clean bill of readiness. Go on with you.” A fond pat on the shoulder, and he moved on to the youngest two of the maknae line.

 

Seungkwan, knowing better than to linger, especially when there was some of Jin- _hyung_ ’s nervous cooking food available, left to greet everyone else, claim a towel to drape over him, and waded in with chopsticks flying.

 

=======================================

 

“Do you feel that?” Minghao asked Jun, frowning as they wandered from the temple to the reception hall. Inside everything had felt serene and lovely, and the ceremony was short and sweet; the temple had good protections as well, but there were so many pinpricks of power inside that his senses were overwhelmed. Squinting didn’t help; the sight was in his soul, and the only way he coped was the magical equivalent of sunglasses, which restricted his senses down to something barely better than the average mortal.

 

Jun waited until they were on the gravel path, being led sideways by one of the palace staff, until he lifted a hand to wiggle it back and forth. They were at the end of the queue of boys, with the first of their songs under their belt and everyone in good spirits from the success as they had sung Crush’s Beautiful for their walk up the aisle. “Something is amiss, I can feel that much,” he muttered down to Minghao as he craned his neck back and forth, ostensibly sight-seeing. “There’s a ghost somewhere, but I can’t tell where. Several, perhaps. This place is very old, and there are a few necromancers amongst the gifted. Speaking of them, have you figured out what our hosts are yet?”

 

“No—ooo,” Minghao muttered. “Not as such. They’re hiding something. I feel incredible power, but I can’t tell what it is beyond that. But they’re not stupid. There are guards everywhere. _Tengu_ , if I had to judge from the illusionary skill. There were never that many _jiǔwěihú_ in existence, though I do think I sensed the one from Japan. Old, _ancient_. I see why your family wanted someone here.”

 

Jun blinked. “Is that why you came? Why not one of your family’s actual spies?”

 

Minghao shot him a look. “Time here has made you stupid,” he said snappily. “You were here, where else would I be? Some bonds you can’t run away from.”

 

Jun stared at Minghao’s back as he walked faster, trying to understand the tingly feeling in his heart – duty, or something else?

 

==================================================

 

 

If Seungkwan had thought the wedding chapel was large – the Bukhansan temple seated up to three thousand – the wedding reception hall was absolutely massive and filled with riotous colour. Ignoring the staff, the wedding party and the band, there had to be at least four thousand foreign dignitaries, and it hurt his head to think of that many people, never mind knowing all of them. Their faces seemed an endless crowd from where he sat on the small stage, making him wonder whether it’d look like this one day, a huge room filled with their fans.

 

His waist was getting sore from bowing. Hansol-ah had withdrawn entirely to the back of the stage, chatting quietly with a similarly-suffering Jihoon- _hyung_. Standing, he was about to make his way to where Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Seokmin- _hyung_ were chatting with some local partygoers, when he spotted something strange out of the corner of his eye: Channie was surreptitiously talking to one of the staff, bowing over and over again, as the staff member passed him what seemed like a huge refrigerated basket.

 

“Channie?” he said as he lifted the lid, catching a small glimpse of what looked like a hoard of food before his dongsaeng slammed the lid down again, backing away. “Are you stealing food from the party?”

 

“Ah… no?” Chan managed, backing away with his basket. “No, Jiminie- _hyung_ gave it to me, I didn’t steal anything. I promise!”

 

Seungkwan frowned, wanting to push the point, but Wonwoo- _hyung_ came by to collect them and help clear the stage to make space for the first dance – somewhere at the other end of the crowd, Jin- _hyung_ and Namjoon- _hyung_ must have arrived. So, carrying the chairs on it away and crowding behind it, he watched instead as Jiminie- _hyung_ , Tae- _hyung_ and Kookie- _hyung_ stepped up onto the stage, natty in their groomsman outfits.

 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it hadn’t been jealousy. He hadn’t known his _hyung_ s could sing at all, let alone this well. They were accompanied by Yoongi- _hyung_ on a grand piano, and their voices were _incredible_. Tae- _hyung_ had the deepest voice he had ever heard, totally unfitting his looks, and Kookie- _hyung_ had the opposite, a silvery tenor that reached up as easily as Seokmin- _hyung_ ’s. In their midst, tying the two styles together, Jiminie- _hyung_ sang in a voice as golden-sweet as honey. Not quite as high as Kookie- _hyung_ , not quite as deep as Tae- _hyung_ , but almost seductively good.

 

“Why aren’t they idols?” he heard Joshua- _hyung_ ask Jeonghan- _hyung_ , but didn’t hear the whispered reply back. Jin- _hyung_ and Namjoon- _hyung_ circled ‘round and ‘round in the middle of the floor, joined by Hobi- _hyung_ and the queen after a minute. To one side, a man that looked very much like Namjoon- _hyung_ danced with the tiny _gumiho_ princess in his arms. The taste in his mouth was as sweet as the memories of the other life, of all the ups and downs. Looking sideways at Hansol, he found him staring with a growing kind of panic growing in his eyes.

 

He tried to smile reassuringly at him, but for the first time in his life his friend didn’t see him even as he looked straight at him. He leant in, about to ask him what was wrong, when a woman screamed so high it hurt his ears, shattering the moment, and something dropped from the ceiling in a thick pillar of smoke.

 

It grew chilly around him, as chilly as that morning his grandmother came to visit, and he jerked with fright. Ghosts circled around them suddenly, malevolent spirits churning in the thick smoke in a nightmare of eyes and fangs and steel. From the corner of his eye he saw shields go up, protecting the wedding party, but all that meant was that the ghosts were coming for _them_ , and all he could think of was Hansol’s frightened eyes, the short choked-off scream from Channie.

 

Two figures moved, one in a great dash of speed that saw him impact against the shields when he couldn’t control his stop: Hoshi- _hyung_ , looking wild and savage. The other shocked him down to the marrow of his bones. Jun- _hyung_ leapt _over_ Mingyu- _hyung_ somehow, brandishing a staff as tall as himself as Minghao- _hyung_ sunk to his knees and started chanting a web of sigils into being. Jun- _hyung_ managed to somehow hold the first fell rush of spirits back in a deafening boom-crack of effort, with his weapon making a thin, silvery barrier between the ghosts and the band.

 

He reached out, panicked, only peripherally aware of Jeonghan- _hyung_ pushing both Seungcheol- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ down. Jihoon- _hyung_ , tiny ferocious Jihoon- _hyung_ , was already rushing to get to Soonyoung- _hyung_ , darting past Jun- _hyung_ ’s protective line in an unthinking rush. A sword came down towards his unprotected back and Seungkwan screamed, voice shattering as power pulsed out of him, yanked out by his desire to protect his _hyung_.

 

A pink bubble formed around Jihoon- _hyung_ , but met Jun- _hyung_ ’s staff accidentally and grew exponentially. Minghao cursed in Mandarin, the bubble exploded, vision faded. The last he felt was his Hansollie’s hand slip from his sweaty one, even as he hauled Chan close to him. All turned white before him, and he knew no more.

 

====================================

 

Yoon Jeonghan wasn’t one of life’s gentlemen and he wasn’t an angel, no matter how much his face might look like one. He had the tendency to keep grudges, he was lazy and he could be incredibly petty – sometimes people joked that Seungkwan-ah had inherited that from him. He also wasn’t the most physical of the band members, and didn’t let much make him act, which was why it surprised him so much when whatever the hell it was going on at the edge of the stage happened.

 

His hands shot out and latched onto Seungcheol and Jisoo’s collars, dragging them down and away with a terrified burst of strength, shoving them off to the side away from the frantic mess. His mind was ringing, nostrils filled with the dusty, dry paint odour he associated with magic, and there were so many voices clawing at the barriers Jimin- _hyung_ had taught him to construct that he almost passed out. He missed his grab as Jihoon went running past, managed to shove Mingyu off into a screaming Seokmin, and gave a step forward himself.

 

It didn’t even turn into a step. The moment the pink bubble connected with whatever the hell Jun-ah was doing, everything exploded, and he barely caught his Chinese dongsaeng before the bubble wrapped around them. Minghao went flying into Chan, Hansol got blasted off towards the smoke in one corner of the bubble, and their minds…!

 

Their minds were screaming and uncoordinated and frightened, calling for help. They rocked through him, touching a place hardened over these days, where the memories of those that had left slept.

 

_I’ve not been very good to them. I’ve not been taking care of them._

 

He looked up wildly and, against all probability, found himself staring at Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s furious eyes through the barrier. He was saying something, was reaching out somehow. Something touched his mind, pushed it open with a guiding hand, and lent him power, gave him the choice.

 

So he did the only thing he could think of to do with that power; reaching out, he wrapped them into his being, pulling their minds into his for protection, and knew no more himself.

 

==============================================

 

Distantly, outside time and space and the concerns of mortals, a god sat at a desk in an area that might be called Heaven, thudding his head over and over against the beautiful wood. His assistant – yes, even gods had them – watched him with wide eyes as he muttered into the wood. His face looked almost red as he straightened to stare into a spherical holder, but smoothed over suddenly. The smile that grew on his face was soft, which could only mean one thing…

 

His son had pulled a fast one again and like a proud papa, he couldn’t hide his mirth.

 

================================================

 

Seungkwan’s head felt as if someone very tiny was hitting the inside of his sinus cavities with a brick. He managed to wrestle an eye open and got a fascinating view of a scrubby-looking forest floor. Bracing himself, he lifted his head slowly and rolled over to sit up, an action that made the world tremble like jelly. He could hear the nearby river before his vision cleared enough to see it. His wedding suit was dirty, smeared with a mashing of loam and leaves, and when he lifted his hand to his forehead he could feel a bloody scrape still sluggishly bleeding.

 

Hearing a groan, he looked around and saw Channie just a little down the river’s shore from him, looking banged-up and still unconscious. Ironically, the basket he had clung to earlier was there as well, perching perfectly on a nearby rock. There was a slim man washing his face in the river. It was as much the aggressively silver-blonde hair with the pink streaks as the way he was still muttering that identified him as Minghao- _hyung_ , albeit without the jacket and with hair a messy aureole from static.

 

“ _Hyung_?” he got out after clearing his throat. “What happened? Where’s everyone?”

 

Minghao looked over his shoulder, scrubbed at his face again and moved closer, sinking down on his haunches next to Seungkwan. “I don’t know,” he said easily, and lifted his scavenged ascot cloth to wipe delicately at Seungkwan’s face. “I’ve not had time to look around, but I don’t see any kind of town, and my link to Junhui has been disturbed as well. Either he’s unconscious somewhere, or we’re very separated from him; I hope he’s just unconscious.”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened past the cloth. “Wah, _hyung_ , you sound totally different, your Korean’s almost like my grandfather’s now!”

 

Minghao paused to look at him. “I’m not speaking Korean,” he said carefully. “I’m speaking a variant of Liaoning dialect. Are you hearing Korean?” His hand reached to touch gently in the centre of Seungkwan’s forehead, pressing a bit. “Is that sore?”

 

“It’s tender,” Seungkwan admitted. “Not precisely sore. If you’re not speaking Korean, then why am I hearing it? And why Jeju-do satoori?”

 

“Ah. That’s odd, given that it looks like someone imbedded a gigantic opal in your forehead. You look like an anime character.”

 

Seungkwan moved faster than he ever had before, pushing Minghao away and scrambling for the river. It took a moment, since the water was rushing, but there on his forehead was a large opal coloured a light sky blue, contained in what looked like a million fine threads of silver – if the silver came from his skin, and looked more like a tattoo than anything else. No matter how he pried, he could not get it off; it was part of his skull, it felt like. Scratch looking like an anime character, he felt like one of the elves from Lord of the Rings. “What the fuuu…?” he managed to get out.

 

It was quiet behind him, cut only with Chan’s groan and a sucked-in breath from Minghao. “We have worse problems,” his _hyung_ said faintly. “Take a look at our maknae.”

 

Seungkwan spun around to do just that and boggled as Chan rolled to a seated position, showing what had been hidden before. There, growing from his brows, were two thin, short, swept-back  horns that would have looked like an antelope’s if they weren’t made of what looked like gold. The skin they grew from seemed scaled like a reptile or a fish, a soft blue that faded well into his skin. “Wow,” Seungkwan managed to get out.

 

“ _Hyungdeul_ ,” Chan sulked. “Gods, my head hurts. What happened? Why are you staring at me like that… it feels like a car drove over me.”

 

“Boo Seungkwan,” Minghao- _hyung_ asked slowly. “What did you _do_?”

 

“I didn’t do anything! What did you do, with all that Chinese mumbo-jumbo… and where is everyone? What’s going on?”

 

Minghao shot him a filthy look. “It’s not mumbo-jumbo, it was an invocation meant to protect us, and then you had to go and… do whatever you did!”

 

“I have horns!” Chan shrieked from the side as he went to the river to wash his face. “Holy fuck, I have horns, what the fuck is going on, where the fuck are we?”

 

As one, Seungkwan and Minghao turned to glare at him. “Language!” they bit out at the same time, then glared at each other.

 

Seungkwan, quieting huffily, walked up the river bank and away, leaving his _hyung_ to try and explain that one, pulling his bloody ascot off to tie it around his forehead in case any mundane came past. The scrubby forest was thin enough that he could see it fall down to what looked like a plain beyond, and what he saw there made his eyes stretch wide.

 

They were on the edge of what looked like a vast plain with little rivers and lakes dotting the green landscape as far as the eye could see, encircled by mountainous peaks looming forbiddingly large, with clouds veiling their highest points. In the distance, clinging to the slopes of the far mountains, a city that reflected radiantly in the sun, with the very tops of its spires wreathed in lightning-clouds. Some of those clouds drifted out over the plains, becoming fat, puffy rainclouds that floated idly, casting their shadows over a host of little towns and the long spaces between.

 

It looked exactly like every Chinese wuxia movie he had ever seen. “Oh my gooooosh,” he got out. “We’re in Kung Fu Country.”


	9. Chapter 9

Later, about an hour or so on, with all blood washed off and all egos appeased, Minghao settled down on a rock overlooking that fantastical valley and explained. “If we are where I think we are, we’re in Jianghu – _not_ ‘Kung Fu Country’, as basely accurate as that might be. Somehow, between Junhui’s exorcism, my invocation and whatever you were doing, Seungkwan-ah, the spells interacted and flung us here… not that I’m sure _why._ ”

 

Chan, still touching his horns, cleared his throat. “I think that’s my fault,” he said in a small voice. “Jun- _hyung_ was fighting against those evil spirits, and I thought it looked like a _xianxia_ movie… I’m sorry! I didn’t know I had magical wish powers, or that Seungkwan- _hyung_ was… I dunno what you are, _hyung_ , or you, Minghao- _hyung_. What’s with all the secrets?”

 

Minghao shot a look at Seungkwan, who shrugged uneasily. “I’m a sorcerer,” he admitted. “I’ve always been a sorcerer, though my family prefers to be classified as shamans, kind of like what Kookie- _hyung_ explained about Jin- _hyung_ when he came to heal Soonyoung- _hyung_. I was sent to Seoul to investigate a growing nexus of power there, and it was easier to be recruited by the same idol group that Junhui was in. My family arranged it somehow, I’m not sure how. He’s an exorcist from an old line of them. I’m his bodyguard.”

 

He glanced at the two younger men, who stared at him with open mouths. “I… look. I’ve never actually been in a _xianxia_ novel myself, but we’re going to have to look around for the other members. They might be scattered all over the place. I can do a basic divination spell, but we’re going to be meeting a lot of people. It’s best if we think up aliases for ourselves. Can either of you fight?”

 

As one, they slowly shook their heads.

 

“Great,” he got out morosely. “Well, perhaps we can challenge everyone to a dance-off. Luckily, wherever we are, we seem to be understanding each other just fine. Do you guys have anything on you? Chan-ah, what’s in that huge hamper?”

 

“I…” Chan muttered, shrinking in on himself a little. “It’s nothing much. It’s just for someone that I met recently. Jiminie- _hyung_ knows about her… it. It’s nothing. It’s just food. Like they give to Hobi’s dance studio.”

 

Seungkwan blinked. He had seen some of it earlier, but Chan looked so miserable talking about it that he snapped his mouth shut on all the questions. “We’d probably have food for several days then. I have my phone…” Reaching into his pocket, he blinked as he felt something odd, and pulled a small, tightly-bound wooden box out. When he wrangled it open, it was filled to the brim with tiny pages, some with moving sketches, one with what looked like a compass needle, and several sheets of tiny, sparkling crystal, oddly heavy in his hand. “Or… I thought I did?”

 

Chan leant closer. “ _Hyung_ , I think that _is_ your phone? What if this place doesn’t understand technology that advanced?”

 

“What’s that around your wrist?” Minghao asked suddenly.

 

Seungkwan closed the box and looked, blinking. It looked a little like a bangle braided from hair, but hair that shone with all the colours of a fibre-optic Christmas tree, and it pulsed ever so faintly. “I… oh. I, um, had an accident recently, and Jiminie- _hyung_ gave me this as a sort of good luck charm,” he havered. “I’m not sure precisely what it is.”

 

“It’s pretty,” Chan said thoughtfully. “It kind of matches the thing in your forehead.”

 

Minghao sighed and stood. “We’d better get to the closest town and see if we can get clothes that fit in first. Please… I know I’m not one of the leader- _hyung_ s, but just follow me, okay? And try not to bump into anyone, because I really don’t want to do that until we find Junhui.” He pulled them up and left, wandering slowly down the road leading towards the valley.

 

Chan picked up his huge container and lugged it with him. “Junhui?” he whispered in Seungkwan’s direction. “He keeps on calling him that. Kind of familiar…”

 

Seungkwan pinched his eyes shut for a moment. “Let’s just try to survive Kung Fu Country, okay? Familiarity or not. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of one of his nunchucks.”

 

“Jianghu!” Minghao called out over his shoulder. “Get it right!”

 

============================================

 

Contrary to Seungkwan’s expectation, the closest town wasn’t a run-down collection of weather-worn huts clustered around the only cow in town. Instead, the river they had fallen next to turned into a waterfall not too far off from them, and an entire trade town was built on the various large islands, jutting rocks, shallow bits and the like, all with tiles that shone reddish gold in the setting sun, and enough people chattering to remind him of his home town. Towards one end, a formation that jutted up almost to eyelevel with them had a temple on the top. Towards the other, the town was protected by a small granite mountain, complete with what looked like a series of saints carved into its side.

 

The late afternoon air carried the sound of bells and laughter to them, and he tracked a man going around lighting lanterns. The closer they got, the easier it was to smell civilisation too, not just in the smell of sweat, but in the spices used in cooking, the smell of burning wood, and the strange musty smell of wet rock.

 

“We should steal some clothes!” Chan hissed from his side towards Minghao, who led the way down. “That’s what they always do in the Joseon dramas!” The large hamper clunk-clink-clinked against the scrub on the side of the narrow trail. “Look, I can see some clotheslines in the residential part!”

 

Minghao paused to boggle at him. “You want to try leading with theft in a place where they’ll happily chop your head off?” he hissed. “I don’t even…”

 

Seungkwan peeked past their quarrelling bodies, down towards the town square. “Look,” he said, pointing. “There’s some kind of fight going on, perhaps we can use that as a distraction? We really do need to get out of these suits, I doubt that they had Laurent around those days… even though Yerin-noona is going to murder us for losing them.” He lent closer, fascinated, as he stared at the fight going on.

 

Whatever was going on, it looked like all the martial moves he had seen – one guy was surrounded in the midst of the town square, kicking ass as if it was some kind of job, jumping around like a flea on a pet between balconies, the ground, the peaks of the nearby roofs, all whilst people stood around in a wide circle to cheer for him, and what looked like a gang of toughs tried to get in even a tenth of the beat-down they were receiving.

 

“Shit,” Minghao got out, worried, uncaring that they had scolded Chan for language barely an hour ago. “Come on, we’ve got to go and help!”

 

Seungkwan blinked and hastened his pace, hearing the donk-donk-donk as Chan did the same. “Wait, why?” he called after his _hyung_.

 

“That’s not kung fu, that’s taekwondo!”

 

 _Taekwondo. Korean… wait… Korean! “_ Run!” he yelled. “Run, it’s one of the _hyung_ s!”

 

==============================================

 

They arrived just in time to see a shaggy, scruffy-looking blonde get tripped up by a clothesline of all things, wielded with admirable precision by one of the roughs targeting him. His face was covered, but his 10:10 eyes were fierce and clear. Pushing through, Minghao darted into the fight, grabbing one of the toughs’ spear away from him in two seconds flat, and he proceeded to lay about it with him, creating a space for their _hyung_ to get up in safely.

 

Seungkwan and Chan took one look at each other before they waded in too. Seungkwan mumbled an apology as he grabbed a large spoon from one of the vendors, shrugged off his jacket and got busy, swinging the spoon right and left as hard as he could. Faintly, from a distance, he saw Chan swing his heavy basket like others would a mall, screaming like a little banshee. The crowd was going wild around them, loud enough that he couldn’t hear the thugs roar at him.

 

One of them looked away as a staff came swinging past; Seungkwan, grabbing the opportunity, hauled the man back and gave him a couple of good whacks across the ear with his Spoon of Bashing, screaming as well: “That’s for Jin- _hyung_! That’s for the wedding! That’s for Hansollie! That’s for Jeju! That’s for laughing at me! That’s for dragging us into this fucked-up world! That’s for...!”

 

“Seungkwan-ah!” Soonyoung- _hyung_ roared at him, yanking the guy away. “That’s enough!” With one precise strike against the side of the neck, he knocked the guy fully unconscious and dropped him on the ground, reaching to liberate the spoon from Seungkwan’s fingers.

 

Seungkwan blinked and looked around them. The space was filled with groaning men – savage little Channie was still putting the boot (Armani loafer) in on one side – and Minghao posed with two staves, looking like some damned martial arts master. He blinked and looked back towards Soonyoung- _hyung_ , towards the slanted eyes laughing at him, and fell forward into his embrace, laughing and crying and hugging him tightly.

 

The townsfolk didn’t allow them to do _anything_ after that. Rather, they escorted them to the local inn where the innkeeper pressed a small private room with a few clean straw pallets on them, one of the richer townsfolk gave them some old clothing, and left them alone to enjoy some of the spoils from Chan’s basket, banged-about but still pristinely preserved in containers that had somehow changed from Tupperware into beautifully lacquered boxes.

 

“I arrived a few days ago,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ shared, lounging back against the wall as he lazily wiped out a container of tiny meat pastries. “I decided to wait around in case anyone else showed up, but I got bored after a day or so and hired on to investigate a nearby bandit group. It didn’t… well, you saw the end of that today, so thank you for helping _hyung_ out. I just didn’t expect you to go all Berserker of Bridal Veil Pass on us, Boo-boo. What happened, and what’s up with the fake headbands?”

 

Seungkwan, too busy eating, eyebrowed Chan into answering for him.

 

“We landed here with Minghao- _hyung_ a few hours ago,” the maknae explained earnestly. “He explained a bit about Kung Fu Country…”

 

“Jianghu!” Minghao interjected wearily. “Please. It’s not just King Fu country…”

 

“…yeah, that, but Seungkwan- _hyung_ and I looked a little different when we got here,” Chan continued excitedly. He reached up to his brow and untied the ascot, revealing the stubby golden horns with a blush. “I have, um, these. I have _no_ idea where they’re coming from.”

 

“Ah!” Soonyoung called out, pouncing to wiggle his cheek against Chan’s temple, hugging him like a plushie. “So cute, Channie, you look just like an innocent little deer boy… Dino, nugu….”

 

Chan’s expression went from embarrassed to miffed in zero seconds. “I’m not anyone’s baby!” he shouted defensively. “I’m sixteen, I’m a grown man!”

 

It didn’t help him. Soonyoung babied him for the rest of the night, exclaiming about ‘little golden horns’ every so often, much to Minghao and Chen’s disdain. Seungkwan got away with not baring his, keeling over super-tired onto the pallet, belly full and body warm from the coarse fur over it. He was out like a light, too tired to dream.

 

===================================================

 

Morning dawned with an obnoxious thunder of hooves going past the inn and the sound of something being tacked up on the village meeting board. Minghao cautiously looked around, meeting Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s slanted eyes, and leapt silently from the balcony to go and look whilst the two youngest slept. Minutes later he returned the same way, leaping up effortlessly to settle in the room.

 

“We’ve got a problem,” he said as he spread the handwritten poster on Chan’s hamper with a loud enough thud to wake them up. “Come and look at this. The Emperor of the Cloud Peacock Palace is announcing the marriage of his son to a princess from a foreign land, and inviting everyone to come to the tournament held in their honour.”

 

Seungkwan, rumpled, scooted closer to glare sleepily at the paper. The characters were impeccable, but too old for him to read with ease, and they did not conveniently change into hangul for him. Idly, he wondered if it had been invented yet as he tried to decipher the features of the prince and princess from the elaborate costumes they wore. It wasn’t a very good portrait; whoever had written this had clearly been vastly better at calligraphy than portraiture. “Congratulations,” he yawned. “Um, why are we caring again?”

 

“Because,” Minghao said repressively, “Do you know any Chinese princess of, well, royal blood that would call herself Princess Groot from… what very roughly translates to ‘Screw You Land’?” he demanded, pointing out the characters.

 

Seungkwan blinked as Soonyoung- _hyung_ cursed, took another look at the portrait and felt his stomach drop out. “Oh my gosh, is that Jihoon- _hyung_ in the dress? Is that… when are they getting married?”

 

“Like fuck Hoonie’s going to marry anyone but me!” Soonyoung- _hyung_ snarled.

 

They broke off to stare at him, eyes wild with surprise at the declaration.

 

 _Hoonie?_ Chan mouthed to Seungkwan. _Marry?_

 

“ _Hyung_ …” Minghao said carefully. “We should go and clear up the mess. Or we should get there and you can, um, challenge for his hand. Or ideally, we should just _get there_. We’ve got a week and it’s a considerable distance. There are no directions here, but I’m thinking it’s famous enough that everyone’ll be able to tell us where it is.”

 

“How is that prince not dead yet?” Seungkwan marvelled. “Jihoon- _hyung_ might be as small as a girl, but that prince is gonna get a musical instrument in the face. What do they play around here? Lutes? Box-harps? Drums?”

 

Soonyoung clenched his fist and stood. “We need to get out of town, and then we’re all going to go for a little run. Minghao-ah, you still have those staves? And Chan-ah… good idea with the provisions, I’m going to need some food. We have a princess to rescue!”

 

As one, they stared at him, mouths falling open slowly as the light reflected off his narrow gaze.

 

=====================================

 

The trip from the inn had been quick, with only the innkeeper and a few people awake in town to bid them farewell. Although the traditional Chinese clothing was comfortable enough, though bland, Seungkwan had drawn the line at wearing the shoes provided – the loafers he had on when he came was much more comfortable than the cardboard-soled boots they had wanted to press on them.

 

They had all watched as Soonyoung- _hyung_ consumed a ginormous amount of food, clearing out the basket. Chan had reluctantly left it behind, but the innkeeper had given them good price on that many lacquered boxes, money that the maknae had immediately given to Minghao- _hyung_ for safekeeping. Now, with his hair still standing in spikes from sleeping, he padded behind the two older boys, silent and watchful.

 

None of them were feeling the holiday mood, really; if all the members of Seventeen were here and at different times, it could have been years that they had been lost, or integrating with society, all due to a stupid mistake he did. Seungkwan hadn’t had time to think about it last night, but it preyed on this thoughts this morning.

 

_Where were the other members? Were they safe? In trouble? Would even laid-back, chill Hansollie forgive me this one?_

 

“This is far enough,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ said. “Stand back a bit.”

 

Seungkwan, frowning, started paying attention again. He was just in time to see his _hyung_ take all his clothes off and tried looking everywhere but that, cheeks flaming scarlet. Fine, he had seen just about everyone semi-naked to fully naked in the dorm, but this was in broad daylight and… and…

 

His mind stuttered to a stop as Soonyoung- _hyung_ gave a full-body shiver and changed. Gone was any vestige of a human shape. Instead, a horse that looked very much like Shadowfax in build if not colour stood there. It had an unexpectedly deep red colour all over, and massive golden wings emerged from high on his shoulders. It made Seungkwan think of flames, and he knew he wasn’t the only one goggling.

 

“I never thought I would see one,” Minghao- _hyung_ said reverently. “They’re as difficult to track down as the wind.” He lifted one hand, gently settled it on Soonyoung’s one shoulder. “Are you saying you’d let us ride?”

 

 _I’m saying that you should get on without any more questions before I leave you here and go and find Princess Groot myself,_ a snappy voice that still sounded like Soonyoung- _hyung_ said. _Help them on, Minghao-ah._

 

Seungkwan didn’t know _what_ to say, but he was quick to get on. Dino, as the smallest, sat just behind the golden wings, with Seungkwan in the middle and Minghao bringing up the back. They had maybe five seconds before settling themselves before the _chollima_ burst forward in a rush of speed, taking the road down from the mountainside into the plains, and through it to the crystal palace on the other side. His footwork was preternaturally smooth, and preternaturally fast; they were on the plains in the blink of an eye, and rushing across them.

 

“They’re called thousand li horses where I come from!” Minghao- _hyung_ shouted to them as the wind rushed past their faces. “But this is nowhere near their top speed, they can go so fast their hooves strike paths in the sky. I wonder…”

 

A bump came, the result of gathered haunches, and Soonyoung- _hyung_ jumped into the _air,_ running as easily on it as he had on the air. His massive wings spread out and around them, metallic-looking feathers fluffing open, and locked them in what seemed like a canopy.

 

_Hold on._

 

It was the only warning they got as he surged forward with a deafening crack-boom around them; his feathers rippled in the wind but didn’t tear off. Instead, they _glowed_ , as if each was being drenched in sunlight, using it to propel him forward faster and faster. Seungkwan couldn’t see terrain beneath himself any more, it blurred too much and his head was ringing with the quick, excited squeaks Chan emitted from sheer joy, reminding him of a young otter.


	10. Chapter 10

They dismounted late that evening next to one of the innumerable little lakes and rivers the plains had, and Soonyoung- _hyung_ changed shape with a grateful collapse, sinking down on his haunches in a sweaty, stinking mess.

 

“That was awesome, _hyung_!” Chan cheered, bringing him a gourd of water that Minghao muttered a purification spell over. “That was so awesome, we are most of the way already!”

 

Soonyoung downed the water, muttered something that might be an apology and rolled to fall into the little lake, submerging himself up to the neck. The water steamed and surged around him, as if his skin was superheated in truth, and it got worse when he submerged himself entirely.

 

“They eat sunlight,” Minghao muttered as he sunk down on his haunches as well, pulling out Soonyoung’s set of clothes. “I think a chollima that’s a little older might know how to deal with this problem, but Hoshi- _hyung_ ’s still young. Did either of you know that he’s one of them?”

 

Chan shook his head. “No idea.”

 

“I wish I could look up some facts on my phone,” Seungkwan bemoaned as he spread out bedrolls, then sunk down on one with the box-shaped ‘phone’ he had now. “The internet can be so convenient… oh?” As he pried the little box open to look at the hoard of filmy papers, the top one was bleeding red, then blank, then red again in a slow cycle, forming the shape of letters – “It’s working!” he shouted as he pried it up, tilting it to the light of the stars. “I can’t make out these characters though… but they look kind of familiar?”

 

He handed the scrap of paper to Minghao as Soonyoung emerged from the water, mumbling apologies as he pulled on his clothes. Seungkwan shot him a wide grin, butt-walked a little closer and draped an arm across his shoulder, squeezing his trembling frame. “ _Hyung_ ,” he praised. “That was the most awesome thing _ever_. You cut so much travel time off our journey it’s incredible. Where’d you learn to do that?”

 

“Hobi- _hyung_ ,” the chollima muttered as he accepted the box of food Chan scrounged up for him, stuffing his mouth frantically. “But we only had one lesson, I didn’t think it’d work.”

 

“Wah, _hyung_ ,” Chan said eagerly. “You picked up how to run like a heaven horse after just one lesson? You’re really our choreographer- _hyung_!”

 

“It’s Jun- _hyung_ ,” Minghao muttered from his perch. “It’s his name, that’s why they look slightly familiar, but they’re of an older generation before Mandarin was simplified for easier writing. I have no idea how to respond, or how he even got it to work. I might be able to perform a ritual to track him down based around this, if you don’t mind me trying?”

 

Seungkwan shook his head, too engrossed in passing a mouthful of rice to Chan to mind. He watched though, as the _hyung_ he apparently knew nothing about smoothed out a section of dirt, packing it with river stones and drawing sigils before imbuing energy into it. His belly crawled with the feel of it, and he shivered a little closer to Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s warm form as he watched the energy sift up and become a gleaming compass on the back of one hand, wiggling back and forth a little before settling to point off into the distance.

 

“He’s close, maybe a day or so out,” Minghao translated from the mystical compass as he peered at it. “I think I saw a town in that direction when we came in to land. If Soonyoung- _hyung_ can give us a quick lift tomorrow…”

 

“It won’t be as fast,” the chollima warned. “I don’t have the same store of food to work from, but I can get us there. I’d feel more comfortable with Jun- _hyung_ around as well. For the moment, you three are going to have to keep watch so that I can get some sleep in, I’m tired as hell. I’ve no idea how Hobi- _hyung_ makes it look so effortless.”

 

“Um,” Chan offered. “Perhaps he goes closer to the sun? Like, almost in space? If what you told us of the hooves is true, Minghao- _hyung_. There’s more radiation up there. Perhaps that’s why your feathers look like they’re sucking up sunlight. But we won’t be able to survive there, I think. That’s what I think at least.”

 

Soonyoung smiled at him, poking his cheek, before he finished his food and laid down to sleep.

 

“I’ll take the first shift,” Seungkwan offered. “I’m still fresh. I’ll wake all of you up.”

 

The others came to curl close, using body heat to stay warm, and finally Seungkwan was left with his thoughts. He felt a faint pulsing in his forehead as he lifted his face to the stars scattered across the heavens, and tried not to cry as he thought of Hansol out there somewhere, alone and angry and afraid.

 

 _I’m coming,_ he promised in the depths of his mind. _I’m coming, I promise._

===============================================

 

Seungkwan didn’t wake the others. Instead, he stood on the edge of the little lake and pulled on one of the jackets over the Chinese suit he had on, tugging both tight to try and get warm. He was so used to warm modern clothing that he felt each inch of the wind cut through the thin layers of cloth. Behind him, the three others slept through the dawn as he watched it with tearing eyes: pinks, oranges, and yellows spilled onto the clouds first, then filtered into the starry night, taking the sky from something brilliantly lit with stars to an inky blue and right through to morning.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he had watched when he went to rouse the others. Minghao, seeing his stress-pout, didn’t say anything. Instead, they gave Hoshi and Chan another hour of sleep, then set to rousing both.

 

“I hope there’s a bath house in the next place,” Chan muttered. “I feel disgusting. I want toothpaste. And body soap. And my duvet.” He sipped a mouthful of water before trying to brush his teeth with his finger; from the look of the expression on his face, he wasn’t convinced it helped at all. “Seungkwan- _hyung_ , how are you not bloated?”

 

Seungkwan looked over absentmindedly. “I tried the diet Jiminie- _hyung_ gave. It tastes like shit, but it works.”

 

Minghao smiled and muttered something to Chan, going to sink down on his haunches at the lake as well.

 

Seungkwan, moving to Soonyoung, started to massage his shoulders slowly to get rid of muscle aches and to keep his mind busy. It was the worst thing of this world, he couldn’t stop thinking long enough to gain a measure of ease. Remaining silent about it seemed the best option; the others were as tired as him, as out of sorts as him. Say what you want of the Pledis dorm beds and jokes made about how hard they were at times, they were a thousand times softer than actual ground.

 

Settling back on Soonyoung’s back, they soon settled into a slow trot with his wings around them to warm up and refuel. His pace became slowly faster; Minghao, who rode in front today, constantly considered the compass on the back of his hand and called out directions. The wavery path took them on an hour’s journey heading to their closest foothills, then the small town clustered around what looked to be a large temple. They paused for a second for Soonyoung to pull his clothes on again, then made their way up the packed dirt street, arriving at what looked like a large teahouse just outside the temple grounds.

 

They had barely set foot in its reception area when a body came flying from the third floor, landing neatly on its toes in front of them, anxious expression on his face. Where they had garb on that most of the townsfolk were dressed in, Jun wore a monk’s outfit, sturdy and made from long-wear fabric, complete with a shakujo in one hand that tingled gently as he landed. His expression moved from anxious to something akin to beatific, and he reached to pull Minghao into a tight embrace.

 

It boggled Seungkwan’s mind to see stoic, cool Minghao- _hyung_ cling back, as if infinitely relieved. _Has he been lonely and worried too? It didn’t look like it, he looked so strong and calm. They’re really good friends…_

 

“Yah, Jun- _hyung_ , why aren’t there any hugs for the rest of us?” Soonyoung teased. “And some food and tea?”

 

Jun snorted and hauled them all closer and they drew into a little inward-facing circle, arms around each other’s shoulders. “You little devils,” he ground out roughly. “I wasn’t even sure you got the note!” He nodded to the young waitress over their shoulders and led them all upstairs. “Come on, yes, we’ll get some breakfast and tea, and you won’t believe who I found as well…”

 

Seungkwan nearly froze, heart thudding desperately with hope. They turned the corner of the building, went into a little private room and slowly a familiar face turned towards them.

 

For a second he felt disappointed. It wasn’t Hansol. It was Jeonghan- _hyung_ instead, dressed in costly robes with his hair neatly done, looking like one of the Hwarang. Pale and perfect, with a small smile he knew could turn vicious in seconds. Despite hoping for Hansol, he had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

 

Chan was the first to break, rushing Jeonghan despite all his protestations of being a grown man, but Seungkwan was scarcely two steps behind, and he didn’t even consider feeling ashamed of the tears he spilled as he hugged his _hyung_ over and over. He had to let go after a few moments, since Soonyoung wanted his turn and nobody was prying Chan out of Jeonghan’s hold and vice versa. Instead, going back to hug Jun again, he settled down and wiped his tears on the suit’s sleeves with a sniffle.

 

Food and tea had arrived by the time that they settled down, and he felt the caffeine in the puer tea wash through his system. It wasn’t as good as that green stuff Jin- _hyung_ made for him, but it helped to wake him up a little, until he no longer felt as if he were floating.

 

“It’s good Jun- _hyung_ worked out how to contact us,” Soonyoung said as he sprawled comfortably back on the legless seat with a bowl of rice clutched to his chest. “If Seungkwan-ah hadn’t seen the note, we would’ve made straight for the palace.”

 

“Princess Groot?” Jun questioned, and nodded to Chan’s affirmative mumble. “Trust Jihoon- _hyung_ to keep his wits about him and warn us that way, otherwise we’d never have headed to the palace. Jeonghan- _hyung_ and I have been searching for about a week now; we landed together not far from here. Where did you arrive?”

 

“Bridal Veil Pass,” Seungkwan said without thinking, watching instead the way China Line didn’t quite hold hands, but sat with their knees pressed together. He wondered how he had never noticed that they seemed to be more… _complete_ in each other’s presence before – not that they weren’t complete otherwise, but there was just an additional hint of something in the air. He felt Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s glance transfer to him and remembered his gift: soul-speaker, a sensitive that could read minds sometimes. He grimaced an apology to him.

 

Jun blinked. “I don’t know that place at all. You must have made good time.”

 

“It’s very far from here!” Chan burst out excitedly around a mouthful of fried river fish. “All the way over to the other side of this huge valley. Soonyoung- _hyung_ is a _chollima_ , he can run like lightning!”

 

“There’s no way I can carry all of you though,” Soonyoung said. “I mean weight-wise I probably can, all ego jokes aside, but there’s no way the five of you will fit. Has anyone heard anything more about this wedding, or the palace itself?”

 

Jeonghan relaxed back against the wooden balustrade. “It’s to be in a week or so – gossip around here says that the Emperor is waiting for the perfect auspicious day. He sent off monks and couriers to Golden Carp Temple, wherever that is. I…” He broke off as the waitress came around to refill my cups. “Ah, thank you, miss. Have you by any chance heard more about the wedding that’s got everyone so excited?”

 

She blushed but poured steadily, then scooted a little closer on her knees. “It was a very great scandal,” she advised softly. “From his birth, the prince was expected to marry as befits his rank, of course, but this past winter he went riding with his retainers, and it’s said that the group came across a beautiful maiden, delicate as a flower barely blossoming, and he fell in love at first sight, and swore he would have none but her. For him to marry a commoner! They called her a princess pretty quickly though.”

 

“Princess…Groot, right?” Jeonghan said with an absolutely straight face.

 

The waitress snickered behind her hands. “Isn’t that such a strange name? But anyway, some say his mother’s the one that suggested the tournament to delay things, and she’s also the one that suggested sending to the temple for an oracle and an auspicious day.” She pointed discreetly behind her tray. “Look, there on the second floor, that large group of soldiers there. What do you bet they’ve got instructions to take their time?”

 

Jeonghan stretched his eyes a little wider open from his normal sleepy looks. “It sounds political…” he murmured. “Thank you so much, miss, we appreciate it.”

 

“Oh, no problem,” their waitress said as she stood. “At least you’re not breaking through the balconies picking a fight, it’s nice to have such quiet customers. Ring the bell if you want to ask for something else!”

 

They waited until she was away before collectively craning towards the balcony separating them from the inn proper.

 

“Those are a lot of guards,” Seungkwan muttered. “That one looks like a _sumo_ wrestler, how’d they find a horse to carry him? They’re going to take long enough that we can get to the palace and rescue Jihoon- _hyung_ , I’m guessing. He must be going stir-crazy without his studio and his anime.”

 

Jeonghan scrubbed at his face. “I just wish I knew how many of us were here,” he muttered. “Is it all of us? Just some?”

 

Jun tilted his head. “I don’t have a clue,” he said softly. “At the time it happened, I was trying to open a portal to Diyu to send the ghosts back, but whatever Seungkwan-ah was doing intersected with that, and I think it sent the portal to Jianghu, not Diyu. I’m not sure how that could have happened…”

 

“Hold up,” Jeonghan ordered. “You were trying to send the ghosts back to… where?”

 

“Diyu is a purgatory,” Minghao explained. “It’s where spirits go to face whatever punishments they’ve accrued before they go back to the cycle of reincarnation. Jun- _hyung_ is a Nuo exorcist, that is to say a _Fāngxiāngshì,_ and my charge. It’s… kind of a long story.”

 

Chan frowned, sitting forward. “But you don’t act like a bodyguard at all, _hyung_ , and sometimes you shove him all over the place, and you can sing and dance so well…”

 

“What use is a bodyguard that acts like a bodyguard?” Jun said gently. “It’s a long story, like Minghao-ah said, but suffice it to say that my family and I disagreed on how to get information on a large ceremony, and when he tracked me down eventually, Minghao-ah stayed. We’re both martial artists though.”

 

“It’s not as dangerous here, normally,” Minghao said. “Back home… it’s not like in the dorms, where it’s thirteen brothers.”

 

A complex emotion drifted across Jeonghan’s expression, but he left the matter there. “Perhaps, Seungkwanie, it’s time to explain your side of things as well? I knew about Soonyoung-ah too, but Channie’s horns are new to me.”

 

Chan sighed grumpily. “Jeonghannie- _hyung_ ,” he whined. “Don’t ask it.”

 

Jeonghan gave a remarkably easy cackle. “Go on, Seungkwannie.”

 

Seungkwan took a deep breath. “I’m not … entirely sure. The _shisa_ we ran across called me a bird-maiden,” he said as he lifted his hands to take off the ascot, revealing the gem that sat embedded in his forehead and the lines of glowing silver intricately scrolled around it. “Like Soonyoung- _hyung_ , there was something way back in my ancestry, a captured _tennyo_. From what I could feel, it was very long ago, and the immortal part of her soul slumbered in her descendants, until a male of her line made an unselfish decision.”

 

Jun arched his eyebrows. “What was the decision you took?” he asked curiously.

 

“It’s personal,” Jeonghan said serenely. “It happened, and what slept in him left to her old home, but left her powers in him.”

 

“I was trying to protect Jihoon- _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan said in a small voice. “I wasn’t thinking, I was just _reacting_. I’m really sorry. I saw him charging past you to protect Soonyoung- _hyung_ – remember, _hyung_ , you ran towards the stage – and there was this sword coming down, and I just panicked.”

 

Soonyoung looked at him with big eyes. “I was too shocked by what was going on – Hoonie was on his way to me? That… idiot! What did he think he could do? I’m trained; if I hadn’t been tripped up by that sudden burst of speed…”

 

Minghao cleared his throat. “Sorry, _hyung_ , but I’d rather be scared of Jihoon- _hyung_ than you, for all that you’re a trained martial artist. He’s got that wrath inside him.”

 

Jun took a deep breath. “Anyway, now that we’re together again, we could try a ritual to see how many of us are here? There’s also the matter of an exorcism that I contracted to do this afternoon, not very large, but I’d like to do it at least and get the payment.”

 

“It’ll give the rest of us time to get ready,” Jeonghan muttered. “You guys look tired, and I’m sure you could use a bath and a nap, and more food. Jun-ah, you go attend to that, take Minghao-ah with you just in case. You two seem used to working together. The rest, finish up and come with me, and we’ll go to the inn we’ve been boarding at.”


	11. Chapter 11

The inn was small and threadbare, not like the tea house at all, but it had a separate bathing area where Jeonghan flashed his smile and got them free baths – Seungkwan was beginning to think that his _hyung_ ’s magical power was getting free stuff because he’s pretty. Still, it ended an hour later when he was scrubbed and clean, in a set of clothes that fit him much better than the previous lot. He took his loafers back – he wasn’t about to walk in the abomination they called shoes for all that his China Line _hyung_ s seemed happy in them. Loitering outside was a mistake though; Jun- _hyung_ , mistaking him for someone that looked interested, insisted on dragging him along to the exorcism he had planned.

 

They slowly crested the hill, with Jun’s staff clearing a space for them to walk in, and he squinted up at the sheer magnificence of the temple. There was even a paved road leading up to it, worn smooth by thousands of feet. The temple had small baked green clay tiles for a roof, faded from long exposure to the sun, but all the paintwork was bright, and there were no signs of disrepair that he could see. There was even a set of formal gardens in the front where monks worked and people idled through – perhaps the temple’s idea of a scenic tourist spot.

 

In one corner, next to a flowering tree, a painter sat, taking selfies the only way they had in ancient times, with a paintbrush and watery ink.

 

It didn’t feel like any temple he had ever been in, and he had been in a few in his life. Instead, it felt like the inner cone of Seongsan Ilchubong during the sun-greeting festivals he had sung at, warm and a little hallowed, as if faith was more than a word here. It felt friendly, welcoming even.

 

Jun and Minghao did all the talking, and the monks led them to a distant terrace where a circle of monks sat chanting droning mantras. The sound felt physical, intense, interwoven somehow into a wall. It was almost visible, shimmers in the air that pulsed in time with the nonsense sounds. Inside, on a small pallet, lay a boy maybe his age, maybe a little younger, still plump-cheeked, but clearly desperately ill. A thin, raggedy woman sat just outside the barrier, quiet as if all her tears hadn’t done anything.

 

“Are you sure we should go in there, _hyung_?” he asked quietly of Minghao. “That guy doesn’t look as if he’s well, at _all._ Who knows how many illnesses could be floating around him?”

 

Minghao cast a look back over his shoulder. “Jun- _hyung_ tells me there are a couple of doctors in the place, and herb-witches, and clever grannies aplenty. I have a limited measure of healing as well. This is a real exorcism, Seungkwannie; there’s a malignant spirit in the boy, and he’s going to drive it out. It’s a rare opportunity to see him at work, you should watch in case what you can do is something similar…”

 

Seungkwan shot him an uneasy smile and got out of their way. Rather, he went to sit by the boy’s mother, sinking down cross-legged on the warm stone facing forward. “It’ll be okay,” he said, mostly for his own encouragement, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother in this situation, and could picture her tired look only too well. Way too well; he had so much to make up for even if he hadn’t lived with her from early in his teens. “It’s okay, Auntie. You’ll see.”

 

She didn’t make a noise, but slumped a little bit, as if his words had meant something. They both faced the boy together as Minghao set up a secondary, stronger barrier. Jun accepted a bright robe from one of the monks and pulled on a mask as well, intricately painted and even more intricately engraved. Once done, he nodded to Minghao, who came to kneel next to Seungkwan.

 

“These are very special monks,” he murmured to Seungkwan as Jun closed his eyes. “If they are like the ones I’m thinking about. Listen to them start singing.”

 

Seconds later, as they opened their mouths again, Seungkwan understood what he meant. They weren’t singing, not as he knew it. The sound that emerged from their throats seemed as deep as the mountains behind them, and they didn’t _breathe_. Well, they didn’t look as if they breathed, not even when Jun’s chanting started and the boy slowly lifted into the air.

 

Jun’s staff rose before him as well, and a set of symbols appeared around his hands as he chanted as well, light voice meshing surprisingly well with the basso chanting of the monks. The protective dome took on a green tinge even in the sunlight, reminiscent of a light, creamy jade.

 

“How are they doing that?” Seungkwan asked Minghao, fascinated. “They’re not breathing!”

 

Minghao shuffled a little closer. “They are breathing. It’s called circular breathing and it’s mostly wind instrument players that use it. They’re breathing in, storing the air in their cheeks and then pushing it out to amplify the real sound. That’s not it though. How many tones are they singing?”

 

Frowning, Seungkwan turned his head back to the monks and listened hard, with all the vocal training he had. “I’m hearing... are they singing multiple tones at once?” he murmured. For a moment he remembered back to the tones that he had sung. This wasn’t the same, not quite, but… maybe an unconscious mimicry? “Not different voices singing, but different notes sung by one voice.”

 

“It’s called overtone singing,” Minghao murmured. “In our world, areas of Tibet and Mongolia are filled with people that can do it, but these people have power, and they express that power through song – I wove the barrier for them, but they’re holding it up with their voices, see, and they’re providing a platform for Jun- _hyung_ to work off of. His family a lot older than mine, for all that they’re smaller… he has a lot of Tujia blood in him, which is very closely related to Nuoism. He’s very powerful under all that ego.”

 

Seungkwan stared at Jun through the ringing barrier, and watched as he chanted and chanted, drawing up constructs of light around the poor, struggling boy on the pallet. His voice had an added _something_ to it, strong and sure, and he seemed to know what he was doing, unlike… unlike…

 

His head snapped around to the other side of the terrace and the youngest of the monks seated there, who was sweating like a pig. “How precise does this singing have to be?” he asked Minghao quietly, indicating the monk. “He’s singing several tones off pitch, and it looks like he’s not going to last. I…”

 

The barrier exploded as a lash of energy from the trapped entity smacked against the barrier, finding the weak point almost as quickly as Seungkwan had heard it. The wave of force smashed the poor monks out of their positions and nearly bowled the spectators over. He heard a scream from the woman, a higher scream from the chittering insect thing that sifted from the boy and a curse he didn’t think he’d ever hear Minghao utter as it lashed towards Jun.

 

He saw Minghao stand, start to chant, and something drove him to his feet, feet thudding on the stone terrace as he rushed the sacred space now delineated in torn curtains of filmy, sick-looking green. He saw Jun’s eyes flick to him as he grappled to get the demon hauled all the way out of the kid, knew that he couldn’t stop now. A pulse rocked deep inside him, then again, and the power buried in his blood responded. His mouth opened and his hands clapped together in front of them as he somehow shaped the sound that came out of his mouth, furled it into a sphere intricately etched with what looked like a processor board. It bent, circled and sank down into the stone, anchoring itself as he sung and sung, note sustained by the power and not any indrawn air.

 

Very faintly he felt a touch against his mind, a curiousness, before he dumped that entire pocket of power in his _hyung_ ’s hands. Jun’s staff spun like a lit beacon, colouring the space the green of growing grass, of natural things, of life and renewal as he yanked the last bits of the demon out of the poor boy. The power contracted, spun back into a smooth ball and winked out of existence, taking with it the strength in Seungkwan’s bones.

 

He fell to his knees, barely caught by one of the monks before he faceplanted. Everything around him was a distant cacophony made of muted voices and soft, celestial singing – something in him was pleased, appeased, as if he had passed some sort of test.

 

“Seungkwanie!” Jun’s voice carried through to him as the others didn’t, and the monk holding him left as he stumbled forward into his _hyung_ ’s arms, caught and steadied by Minghao’s hold.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered in the space between them, ears still ringing. “Sorry, I had to…”

 

“It’s okay,” his _hyung_ said incredibly gently. “It’s okay this time. You saved the boy. Let’s get going, okay? Otherwise people are going to mob you… Hao-hao, give me a piece of your sleeve, we need to bind his forehead so that people don’t see…”

 

=============================================

 

By the time they got to the inn Seungkwan felt as if his knees really were water, and he collapsed on the pallet in his room, rolling into Chan’s hesitant embrace without second thoughts. “Something went wrong, I take it,” he heard Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s sharp voice. “Did the temple blow up or something? Do we need to leave immediately?”

 

Noise, more noise, as Jun shuffled to a tired seat. “No, we even got paid. Something went wrong with the ritual, but he saved it somehow, gave me the energy I needed to complete it. Just with his voice, it was the strangest thing I had ever heard. But it took its toll on him.”

 

Seungkwan, too tired to think, decided to pass out, dropping deeply into sleep on Chan’s arm.

 

“He just drank tea this morning, I noticed,” Soonyoung said from one side. “And the night before, he gave his portion to me because I needed it for the run. Channie, did he eat this morning?”

 

“No, _hyung_ ,” Chan said obediently. “I don’t think so.”

 

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Check the bracelet on his arm, what colour is it?”

 

A few seconds later, after a bit of a scuffle, “It’s greyish, _hyung_. The thing on his forehead too.”

 

“Jeonghan- _hyung_ ,” Minghao said. “What’s going on? I noticed the bracelet before, of course, and he hinted this morning that he was something else, but I’m more confused than ever now.”

 

Jeonghan sighed. “This doesn’t go any further, okay? You know Seungkwan is the descendant of a tennyo, he told you himself this morning. However, the soul that left him left her powers behind, as it were. Neither Jiminie- _hyung_ nor I know if it’s to say thanks or it was accidental, or… the problem is that it left him with a hole in his soul and hungry powers. The bracelet is something meant to help cover those holes whilst he internalises the powers, making it his own, but it sounds as if he tore through what he had built up. He’s not trained, not like you or Junnie, I’m guessing. And it’s not innate like Soonyoungie’s powers either. He needs the food that Jiminie- _hyung_ left for him, they’re laced with a remedy that Jinnie- _hyung_ makes for him, to provide more energy and stamina.”

 

This time Minghao did curse and scooted over to Seungkwan’s side, cupping his temples with warm hands. His sigh was almost immediate. “His yang energy is almost gone, Jun- _hyung_ , and his yin energy tastes… not poisoned, but there’s definitely something abnormal in there. I wish I had known before… I’m going to need some stuff.”

 

“Can you heal him?” Jeonghan asked, surprise in his voice.

 

Minghao shook his head. “No, but I can give him a head start again, and we’ll have to watch him carefully from now on. There are certain herbs around that will help. I…” He fell silent again, bent a little further, and choked off another curse, this time one that didn’t even have a translation. “He had a soul-bond?” he demanded. “I can only sense the barest of threads connecting a broken wound – I wasn’t even aware he was in love, or had a special someone.”

 

“ _Hyung_ spoke of a price,” Chan said as he substituted his thigh for his arm, sitting up straight to look at Soonyoung and Jeonghan. “An unselfish price. Is that… is that what Minghao- _hyung_ is speaking of?”

 

Soonyoung looked away from Chan, lips tight. Jeonghan’s jaw rippled. “It’s a long story…”

 

“Seems like that’s going around,” Chan replied savagely. “We’re supposed to be a group of brothers working together! Why are all of you keeping so many long stories and secrets?”

 

“Channie,” Jeonghan said warmly but warningly. “Be polite. There were reasons. It really is his story, and I can’t tell you the who or how, but in essence Minghao-ah is right. It was a dire situation and he faced two possibilities: a future where most people suffered but he still had his soulmate and they had a happy life together, or the loss of that soulmate but with people having a chance. He chose the latter. It was very brave, but we helped him forget afterwards. He couldn’t bear that memory, okay? It doesn’t make him _weak_.”

 

Jun frowned. “But it does make him weaker – no one is at full strength with a hole in their soul, and he just ripped the plaster off. So it seems the sooner we can leave this place and get everyone, the better for him at least, so that he can get back to Jin- _hyung_ ’s medicine.”

 

“Come on,” Soonyoung said. “Let’s go and get the herbs Minghao-ah spoke of. And none of you, on pain of a very quick kick in the neck, will _ever_ speak of this to Seungkwan, right?”

 

A murmured chorus of agreements answered him, but none seemed very happy.

 

======================================

 

Seungkwan woke up the next morning to the smell of someone stuffing a cup underneath his nose. It smelled dusty and sour at the same time, kind of like a mix between Italian pasta and kimchi, and it was enough to make him crack one eye open. He had never really been _afraid_ of eating anything, but whatever it is smelled like it couldn’t decide what country it was.

 

What it _was_ turned out to be a soup filled with little floating green bits of herbs and a broth of some sort, and it was _delicious_. He almost took Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s hand off getting to the small cup, because it felt as if his appetite had roared to life with all the force of a pissed-off lion. He quaffed it down, scalding his tongue, and wasn’t shy when they handed him a second bowl, this one much larger. He drew the line when it came to being fed rice by Chan, because that was a one way street and would remain like that for the rest of his life, to hell with Chan’s pride as a man.

 

“Thank you.” He sounded rough and gritty with a real waking-up voice; he felt better than he had in some time though, and grimaced at the concerned look in his band members’ eyes.

 

“Don’t be fooled,” Minghao- _hyung_ said quietly. “The herbs in that would make an elephant feel perky, but they’re a temporary solution. You’re going to start feeling the drain around this afternoon. I couldn’t find a lot of wǔwèizi jiāngguǒ around here, and the dōngchóngxiàcǎo is prohibitively expensive. I have no idea what was in the stuff Jin- _hyung_ gave you. I barely had enough to make a linctus for you to take every now and then, so you’re going to have to start fighting this, Seungkwannie. I don’t want any more collapses, okay?”

 

Soonyoung leant in to press his cheek against Seungkwan’s for a moment before making space for Chan, who nervously got in a hug of his own. “You can walk with me today, Seungkwannie- _hyung_ , I’ll watch out for you. Let’s work together well, okay? Fighting!”

 

“Fighting,” Seungkwan croaked out. “I’ll try, guys. Thank you... I really do appreciate it.”

 

Jeonghan poured the last of the broth from the pot into his bowl. “Whilst you slept, Minghao-ah managed to perform a tracker ritual. From what he could tell, there are only two more of the band here. We know that Jihoon-ah is one of them, but… well, Minghao-ah?”

 

Minghao sighed and nodded. “It’s very strange. I don’t understand some of the readings that I get. I think that whatever happened that morning at _Seollal_ affected the people there more than I thought at first. Jeonghan- _hyung_ told me that he realised that he had a trace of power there, and then Soonyoung- _hyung_ got affected by the dome. I think the last two members might be Jihoon- _hyung_ and Hansol-ah, but I’m not getting precise readings. It’s like the ritual tells me they’re right here next to us, or deeply unconscious, with only the occasional spike. Furthermore…”

 

Seungkwan, unsettled, tried not to think of Hansol being trapped in this weird place, unconscious. At least Jihoon- _hyung_ would be treated well enough at the palace if they thought he was a princess. “Furthermore?” he questioned, polishing off the last of the broth.

 

“Furthermore, the medicine is toxic in large quantities, especially the cordyceps,” Minghao explained. “They just don’t have the refinement methods here we’re used to. I’m not sure what the buildup of arsenic and heavy metals will do to someone that’s half supernatural, but I’d rather not chance it.”

 

“Which means we need to get a move on,” Jeonghan said firmly. “The sooner we can find those two, the sooner we can all get out of here. We have time enough for a quick bath, but then we have to set off. The soldier party left an hour ago.”

 

“Did you… did one of those spikes tell you where Hansollie is?” Seungkwan asked hesitantly.

 

Jun slowly shook his head as Minghao’s head drooped. “No. I’m sorry, Seungkwan-ah. He’s not as active as Jihoon-ah.”

 

Seungkwan grimaced and put the cup aside, struggling to his feet with Chan’s help. “Then we’d better move, right?”


	12. Chapter 12

In the end, it turned out that ‘getting a move on’ in Jeonghan’s books meant that Soonyoung did double duty in carrying them the rest of the way to the palace. Seungkwan slept with his head on Jeonghan’s lap whilst they waited for him to come back from dropping the first three off, which only took him two hours or so. Even loaded down with them, he was still the insanely cheerful _hyung_ that he normally was, and by the time everyone got to the imperial city it hovered right around nightfall.

 

By this time Seungkwan didn’t question Jeonghan’s ability to smile the innkeeper of a fairly affluent inn into giving them a room for the night; he wasn’t sure Jun liked faking an exorcism per se, but apparently it had worked in some old anime and it worked now. For the first time in days he had a real bed, which he fell into after a quick scrub, only disturbed by Minghao coming past with his newly acquired medicine case and another cup of the linctus. “Better supplies here,” his _hyung_ explained without explaining too much. “You should go to sleep afterwards, Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Jun- _hyung_ are scouting out the ascent to the palace and seeing if they can get in easily. The complex is larger than we thought.”

 

Seungkwan, on the verge of replying, stopped as Chan stuck his head in. Their maknae looked tired too, but he had supported him every step of the way today that they had been together for.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Chan begged, “Can I sleep in here with you? I think Jeonghan- _hyung_ is being hit on by the innkeeper and I don’t want to watch that.”

 

That perked him up a little and he drew the blanket open. “Come on in and tell me everything. Minghao- _hyung_ , you too?”

 

“No,” his _hyung_ said airily. “I’ll go and collect the gossip instead, I could use a laugh. You two sleep.”

 

======================================================

 

Soonyoung cautiously padded up the back street, darting from shadow to shadow not to be seen. His footsteps were nearly silent, and he felt light as a feather at the thought that he’d see his Hoonie again. The palace complex was so large, but he felt determined even in the face of the great wall lit with torches every so often. Super-stealthy, he tiptoed past an inky stretch and…

 

“What are you doing?” Jun asked next to his ear, curious and a little flat. “You look like you’re trying to audition for some horrible American B-movie about ninjas called ‘Chops’ or something like that. We’re just doing a quick scan to see what we’re up against. It attracts more attention capering around like that then just walking… and I think that old lady over there is giving you the evil eye.”

 

Soonyoung pulled up short and glanced around guiltily at the strolling crowd around them, especially the little old lady Jun smiled at. To a one they were watching him disparagingly.

 

“Country family,” Jun explained loudly. “He’s not used to anything civilised.”

 

Soonyoung’s mouth gaped open, not because it was insulting, but because the people nodded and went for it, and some even murmured approving things about Jun’s patience, as if he was some sort of idiot cousin fresh off the farm. Cheeks puffing, he straightened and pulled back to walk with his _hyung_ , restricting his lope to a bare… a bare _canter_. He snickered at the inadvertent joke, thought about it and snickered louder, which didn’t do his ancient Chinese street cred any good.

 

Jun- _hyung_ , bless his soul, just gave him that uncomfortable smile and eye-roll of his. “So,” he asked quietly. “Hoonie, hmm?”

 

And there went Soonyoung’s mood. “Hey, Jun- _hyung_ ,” he said, smile still present but turning a little sour. “I heard this great proverb the other day but I didn’t understand it, can you tell me what it means? I think you say it wǔshí bù xiào bǎi bù, _Hao-Hao._ ”

 

Jun blinked, looking very much as if a hamster had unexpectedly bitten him on an inconvenient toe. “…what? I just asked. There’s nothing wrong with you having feelings for someone, as long as it doesn’t come out in public.”

 

“Feelings intense enough that you spend thirty minutes in the shower with them rather than getting done in five?” Soonyoung teased. “I know what you mean. I just... it’s just friendship. I wasn’t literally meaning that he can’t marry anyone but me…” He trailed off as Jun _looked_ at him. “Look. Stop letting me expose myself here. Tell me about you and Minghao-ah instead. That’s some tight friendship, moving to another country just because someone else is there.”

 

“You told someone you want to marry Jihoon-ah?” Jun asked curiously, ignoring the bait entirely.

 

“I was high on Kung Fu Country.”

 

Jun’s face scrunched up. “It’s not Kung Fu Country, it’s Jianghu, and it sounds like you were high in something else entirely.”

 

“Let’s just go and plan our infiltration, okay _hyung_? Let me live,” Soonyoung muttered quietly. “Sheesh, you two even sound alike.”

 

Jun opened his mouth to make another remark, but from behind the wall next to them came a deafening thud and a growled “Touch me and I’ll kill you, you overdeveloped mushroom.”

 

“Hark,” Jun got out sarcastically. “The dulcet tones of Princess Groot. We found her.”

 

============================================

 

Soonyoung didn’t think, just reacted before Jun could pull him away. With a burst of power he jumped up and onto the wall, delineated briefly against the light before his feet found the top of a flowering bush, pushing off gently into the air. His path carried him like that, gracefully, until he touched down on the bannister of a small gazebo two people were in. It was a lovely scene, tranquil in the night, with stars spangled in the water and delicate paper lanterns. The man, tall and young, wore intricate ochre silks made stiff with metal embroidery. The peacock blue of his overcoat looked dark in the lack of light, but speckled, dusted with bits of wooden debris from the broken bannister nearby.

 

The second figure – ah, Soonyoung wanted to laugh and cry at the same time – wore pale pink silks that draped nearly a foot off his tiny frame, but he made them look graceful nonetheless. As graceful as one could be wearing a scowl like that, at least, clutching a splintered, broken piece of wood like a club.

 

Soonyoung would have laughed. He would have, if there wasn’t a bruise on Jihoon’s tiny face past the scowl, an ugly thing that crept along one cheekbone with a small graze down its middle. It looked as if someone had slapped him with a ring on, and the thought made him see fire.

 

“Hey,” he said flatly. “Asshole. He said not to touch him.”

 

The prince turned to gape at him.

 

Jihoon turned to gape at him.

 

The prince’s expression collapsed into anger, and he opened his mouth to shout for his guards; Jihoon, with a kind of savage efficiency, lifted the piece of wood and neatly clubbed him over the back of the head. He collapsed in a dull thud, official hat making a tinkly little sound as it landed pin-first on the lacquered floor.

 

“Asshole,” Jihoon agreed flatly and reached down to tear at the silks that girdled around him, tearing until they were a profuse peach-coloured cloud on the ground and he was clad just in what looked like underwear pants beneath the robe. His shoulders, gleaming lightly in the lantern light, rotated and worked until his neck cracked. He looked unexpectedly strong like that, eyes flat and fire-filled.

 

Soonyoung felt guilty about looking at him, but the sight of another bruise high on Jihoon’s arm made his temper ratchet up a notch. They were guys, bruising happened when they played roughly or accidentally got hit in dancing, but there was clearly a thumb and four fingers imprinted on the flesh of his arm. Jaw rippling, he pulled off the overcoat of his outfit and handed it over as Jun jumped over the wall and joined them.

 

 

Soonyoung, ignoring his _hyung_ ’s presence, stepped down lightly and kicked the prince squarely in the stomach once, twice, then three times. His martial ethos prevented him from kicking the guy in the head, but it was a close thing.

 

“So,” Jun said conversationally. “I’m curious about the next part of the plan. After we knock the prince unconscious and get the boot in, did you think of what to do next?”

 

“We run. The empress is on my side,” Jihoon said as he tied the coat shut. “It’s the chamberlain that’s a piece of trash. He’s been feeding the emperor poison for years, and this meathead has absolutely no original thought, so guess who’d be running the show with him in charge? There’s a girl he was set to marry – nice voice, but also as thick as two planks glued together. The politics in this place is like a horde of hungry cats in a bag.”

 

Soonyoung stared. “You’re so… so pragmatic. I thought we were rescuing you!”

 

Jihoon treated him to a flat, irritated stare. “Look, this might be some sort of weird dream that I’m having from the extra cup of ramen I should not have had on top of that disgusting jelly shit from last night, but if you thought for a second I was going to sit down just because people seem to think I’m small and delicate and some weasel in a pair of embroidered trousers decided I was a girl, you clearly don’t know me very well, _hyung_.”

 

“Don’t worry about him,” Jun got in from the side. “He’s just having a moment of foiled heroism and existential doubt. Is there anything here you want to take before we get going? I’d ideally like not to get involved with the local politics.”

 

Jihoon marched forward, crushing his castoff silk clothing underneath his feet. “Lead the way.”

 

==============================================

 

It was a very silent trip back to the inn, but got noisy enough once Jeonghan found out what had happened. The worst part, at least in Soonyoung’s mind, was that he didn’t yell. He spoke at a constant tone, with little snarling, but his words… his words were enough to flay him down to bedrock and left him in the mood for precisely no-one. Leaving, he scooted out onto a balcony and flipped up and over the roof’s slanted ridgeline, making himself at home flat on his back to stare at the stars.

 

The tiles were still slightly warm underneath his body, as if the clay held the heat of the day longer than he’d expect. Above him, cool and calm, he traced clouds moving across the night sky, occasionally blotting out large parts of it. There was a light wind, but it wasn’t cold, not as cold as Jeonghan- _hyung_ had been when he laid out precisely how he could have fucked that up, and what the consequences would have been.

 

His eyes teared up with frustration. He wanted to get back to the easy world where all he had to do was act cute for the cameras and dance his legs off. Where he could be whatever their fans desired, and where he didn’t have confusing thoughts.

 

He wasn’t sure how much later it was when footsteps sounded and Jihoon settled down next to him, sitting close enough for body heat to transfer a little.

 

 “Thank you for rescuing me,” Jihoon said stolidly.

 

Soonyoung’s irritation grew. “I didn’t rescue you. No need to thank me for something you already had well in hand, apparently.”

 

Jihoon sighed. “I didn’t have it well in hand. I didn’t know who I could trust, and I couldn’t just run away by myself. I’m not a martial artist. Just a guy.”

 

 “Back where we started off from, Seungkwan took a soup spoon and beat a guy unconscious with it,” Soonyoung countered. “So don’t start with ‘just a guy’. You were doing well with that piece of wood. Real Busan man.”

 

“I’m trying to say that I appreciated you being there, _hyung_ ,” Jihoon muttered. “Just because I can look after myself doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate all the late-night cups of ramen, or dire threats to send me home, or just the quiet company. I do notice.” He paused. “Did you know that I watched you audition once? I saw you dance and thought ‘Wow, how can he be this good without formal training?’ And then we started to dance together, and I found out you were a nice guy too. It didn’t seem fair, somehow.”

 

Soonyoung frowned at the stars and turned on his side, eyes focusing on Jihoon’s closest hip and the folds of cloth there. “I can’t not be nice, it’s my nature.  You’re my partner, right?”

 

“And not your wife?” Jihoon asked drily. “I’m told someone proposed, despite me being trapped in a palace. You’re as mad as Seungcheol- _hyung_.”

 

Groaning, Soonyoung rolled over onto his other side. “That. Never. Happened.” He heard a low laugh, something almost a chuckle, and felt Jihoon patting his back.

 

“Don’t worry,” Jihoon said quietly as his hand migrated to Soonyoung’s hair. “You’re the only prince I’ll tolerate near me.”

 

==============================================

 

Minghao opened his eyes at a shiver of motion next to him, too hair-triggered to sleep deeply. It was Jun, quietly coming in after his night watch. His clothes were cold from the night wind, and he spared little time in curling into the warm hollow left as Minghao moved out of the way. The inn was nice enough and the rooms expensive enough that they couldn’t afford more than two; at least he was in with Jun- _hyung_ and Jeonghan- _hyung_ – the quiet room, if you will.

 

Well, too quiet tonight.

 

He lay staring at the box canopy for a little while before he got out of bed entirely and wandered over to where Jeonghan was sitting. His _hyung_ had the window half-open and moonlight fell through it onto his face, tinting it an alabaster many women would give their eye teeth to have. His eyes were closed and his posture settled as if in deep meditation. Despite that, as he sunk down next to him in the shadows his eyes opened, refracting light for a second as if he had a _tapetum lucidum_ in his eyes like some animals.

 

This close he could feel the silent, barely-there barriers around his _hyung_ ’s mind. He had felt them the day they went up but hadn’t known what they were; now, considering the facts, it was a little clearer. “Does meditation help, _hyung_?” he asked softly.

 

“Not always,” Seventeen’s angel murmured, looking back outside. “Not when there are a lot of people around. I’m slowly gaining more control, but I still hear everyone’s thoughts occasionally if they’re thinking hard or agitated. Jiminie- _hyung_ isn’t a mental specialist. I would have had to let Namjoon- _hyung_ take a look, but after what happened to Seungkwan-ah I didn’t want to go through the same.”

 

Minghao remembered the memories of that stretch, of the bitterness and war between himself and Junhui. He would never admit that he cried tears of relief into his pillow as the real world returned. Grimacing, he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “I remember how much I used to struggle grasping energy for a ritual,” he shared. “Either I took too much and blew everything up, or I couldn’t even get enough to start the cycles. You’ll get the sweet spot soon enough, _hyung_. Just keep working at it.”

 

They sat together for long moments before Jeonghan spoke, voice very quiet. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. “That we’re here, I mean. I jumped as much as Seungkwan-ah did when Jiminie- _hyung_ offered me the power as the attack came.” Softer, wearier, “I always fail you lot somehow.”

 

Blinking, Minghao stared sideways. “What do you mean, _hyung_?” he asked carefully in lieu of empty reassurances.

 

“At the reception hall, when the attack came, there were so many screaming voices around, and they were so angry, that when Jiminie- _hyung_ offered me assistance I grabbed it and sort of… wrapped all of you up in myself to shield you.” Jeonghan frowned down at his rich robes. “I thought it would help. It just made things worse though – we’re in such a mess.”

 

Minghao carefully stretched out a hand. “ _Hyung_ , no,” he murmured, shuffling closer to side-hug him. “Don’t say that. We don’t know what’s going on. For all we know, you might be the only one keeping us together, or getting all these people to give us things… or even saving us from possession. You never fail us, okay? I mean, you’re not as strict as Seungcheol- _hyung_ , but I’ve never felt that I couldn’t talk to you about something.”

 

Jeonghan sighed and sunk down into the hug, closing his eyes. “I try, but I’m just not as good at this kind of situation. I don’t have your training, I don’t even understand what you mean by possession.”

 

“Well,” Minghao said warily. “When the bubble thing… happened, a lot of spirits were already closing in on the door in Jun- _hyung_ ’s soul. They were some of the voices you heard, I think. Regardless, they’re likely trapped in here with us, wherever we are. I know how to keep them out, and Jun- _hyung_ definitely does, but you’re likely shielding all the rest of us. That’s not nothing.”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ grimaced, but straightened back up with a sigh. “We should talk about our options in the morning once we leave the city. I mean, it’s not like we can stay here, the guards are probably going door-to-door at the moment.”

 

“I wove a misdirection ward on the inn when we came here earlier,” Minghao assured. “We’re safe for tonight, but yes, we should probably move as soon as possible tomorrow. Do you want the bed? I can sit up for a night.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t dare of taking Jun-ah’s fairy away from him.”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Minghao protested. “It’s nothing like that.”

 

Jeonghan didn’t say anything in response. Instead, smiling that half-smile of his, he pushed his shoulder. “Sleep,” he commanded. “ _Hyung_ ’s orders.”


	13. Chapter 13

They travelled early the next morning, oddly hopeful now that they had Jihoon with them. Making good time out of town, they stuck mostly to the countryside, staying away from the main roads in case the guards were watching for them. It led them to a pleasant sort of dell late that morning; deciding to break for lunch, they sank down on the sunny side of some rocks, watching the golden-green landscape stretch endlessly in front of them.

 

“Okay,” Jeonghan muttered after they had finished the lunch meal he had wheedled from the innkeeper. “It’s time that we talk and get out of here. Minghao-ah, you first of all: is your tracking still on the fritz?”

 

The youngest member of China Line pulled a face and nodded. “It’s still the same. Each time I cast a ritual, all I find is that there’s one more member and that he’s right next to us. I’m truly not sure why it worked on Jun. It might be because we’ve worked together so often that it was able to get a bead on him, so to speak. I think it’s Hansol-ah because he was the closest, but I’m not sure.”

 

“I’ve not received any more of those flashing papers either,” Seungkwan admitted. “But most of us left our phones safely in the complex; I only had mine on me because I needed a last-minute pronunciation check.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped soft hands around his kneecaps. “I’m worried though, really; comparatively we landed a few days ago, Soonyoung- _hyung_ the day before that, you and Jun- _hyung_ a week ago, and Jihoon- _hyung_ … how long have you been here? The maid at the inn said something about winter.”

 

Jihoon roused himself from his half-slumber against Chan. “About three months,” he said roughly. “As near as I was able to count anyway. I was sick near the start, so I lost a few days, I think.”

 

Jeonghan frowned. “A cold? Your throat? You didn’t injure your voice, did you?”

 

“No, _hyung_ ,” Jihoon assured him with rolled eyes. “A stomach bug of some sort. I got better when they started pulling the leeches out. The bean curd was going bad, I think; it had a strange taste to it. At least there were no eyeballs in it. Some of the other dishes looked extremely dodgy, and there were a _lot_ of them at that engagement feast.”

 

Jun’s lips twitched. “Did they call it Golden Eyes by any chance?” he inquired.

 

Jihoon frowned. “Something like that, anyway. Why?”

 

“Golden Eyes and Burning Brain is one of the hundred and eight delicacies traditionally served in the Han dynasty to Emperors and whoever they favoured to eat with them,” Minghao said softly. “The bean curd is simmered over three days in a mixture of chicken, duck and cuckoo brains. I’m not surprised it had a funny taste.”

 

Jihoon stared at him, eyes wide and complexion increasingly pale. “Tell me you’re joking,” he demanded.

 

Minghao just slowly shook his head.

 

Jihoon blinked, shot to his feet and started running. Minutes later, the group tried to ignore the sound of him getting sick; Seungkwan desperately sniffed at the strongly herbal scent of his bottle of linctus, and Jeonghan looked equally pale.

 

“That’s gross,” Chan announced loudly. “I’m never eating Chinese again.”

 

Soonyoung coughed, took a gulp of water and tried desperately not to get sick as well. “What I want to know is why Seungkwanie is running out of energy so often,” he said hastily. “I mean, it’s not normal, is it? It’s not as if you’re doing anything very strenuous? Ah! Not that I’m saying you’re faking! I just think it’s strange… um. Sorry. I don’t know all this mystical stuff.” He reached out to hug Seungkwan.

 

Jun took pity on him. “Seungkwan-ah’s energy is slowly replenishing itself, but most of it is not… getting to his body,” he said with heavy frustration. “It’s just like the tracking. We can tell that it goes somewhere, but not _where._ ”

 

Jihoon staggered back in, throwing Minghao a filthy look before he flopped down on his old spot.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Soonyoung asked Jeonghan. “Are you still hearing the voices?”

 

Jeonghan sighed and nodded. “The same since I got here.”

 

Chan bit his lip. “If this were a game…” He paused and blinked, gaze growing distant. Moments later, eyes flaring wide, he looked back to them. “What about what they said in that news article? The soldiers were travelling to an oracle of some sort, right? If magic really exists, perhaps they’d really know stuff, and we could go there and ask how to get to the last person and out?”

 

Seungkwan gave a slow sigh. “Man, if oracles really existed…”

 

“You two are looking awfully shifty,” Jeonghan interrupted him, narrowing his eyes at Jun and Minghao. “Are you going to bust out with something else, like you’re actually reincarnated ancient Wushu oracles or something watching the world?”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Jun complained. “That’s a movie plot, isn’t it? But…” He looked to Minghao.

 

“Oracles do exist,” Minghao said flatly. “But they’re vanishingly rare, and mostly they’re crazier than a cage full of monkeys. It comes from looking from the inside and the outside of time simultaneously. Besides, if this one _is_ real, they’d never let us in.”

 

“True…” Chan murmured. “But I know of a company of guards that’s likely carrying some kind of word from the Emperor, heading towards the oracle right now. If we could intercept them somehow and pose as them…”

 

The other six looked at each other, looked at him, and looked at each other again.

 

“You know,” Soonyoung said slowly. “That’s my kind of plan.”

 

Jeonghan snorted. “That’s why I’m worried,” he shot back. “If I recall correctly, most of them were at least twice as broad as us, and one was larger than Bukhansan.”

 

Seungkwan paused to cough for a moment, trying to ignore the burn of the liquid down his throat and trying desperately not to think of the bean curd. “Someone get me a soup spoon,” he muttered. “A big one.”

 

“Fucking brains,” Jihoon echoed. “Let me at them.”

 

Jeonghan looked at the line of face around him and sighed, shaking his head. “It appears I’m outvoted,” he muttered. “Fine. But I call being the commander. No one is going to believe this is the face of a foot soldier.”

 

============================================

 

“You know,” Jeonghan said on the third day of chasing after the troop of soldiers. “I’m beginning to think it’d be easier to have Soonyoung-ah do several trips in one day and cover _his_ food bill rather than pay for all of us to move at our time.”

 

“Makes you think good things about the company credit card, right?” Minghao muttered as he tried – again – to show Seungkwan and Dino how to defend themselves against a very mild Jun.

 

“If push comes to shove, we can always sell Channie’s horns,” Jihoon said bitterly. “Hell knows they eat every _other_ part here.”

 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Are you still not over that? You eat sundae with liver and lung, how is this any different?”

 

“It’s brains,” Jihoon gritted out. “ _Brains._ I’m not a zombie!”

 

Seungkwan, swinging his stick around, barely managed not to fall over Chan as he tried to bash it into Jun’s side.

 

“Channie!” Jeonghan yelled maliciously. “If you yell ‘braaaains!’ whenever you try to hit Jun-ah, I promise not to call you my baby for a whole week!”

 

“You _bastard_ ,” Jihoon got out flatly as Chan, only too happy to escape emasculation, responded with a roaring cry that echoed over the bit of plain they were on.

 

The victory cry didn’t die down until they came to Jade River Settlement that afternoon, tiredly making their way into the tea house. This one was far rattier than the examples they had stayed in so far, merely a ramshackle hut next to a loop of the river that eventually coiled around the settlement fifty paces on. Despite that it was busy, with chatter filling the air as they entered, and a waitress used to dodging hands as she escorted them to a quiet corner of the place.

 

Seungkwan, tired of his feet, sunk down in one corner and rested his head back against the thin wall, turning ever so slightly to try and inhale some of the wood scent from the panelling rather than the rank stink of unwashed sweat. 

 

“ _Hyung_!” Minghao muttered next to him, elbowing Jeonghan in the side. “ _Hyung_ , don’t look now, but that man-mountain over there, I think he’s part of the soldiers we saw before.”

 

Jeonghan sipped at the weak tea and stole a covert glance that way, frowning gently. “He’s large enough,” he muttered doubtfully. “Jihoon-ah?”

 

Jihoon took a moment to glance as well, lips tightening. “He’s not wearing uniform, but the hair is right. Who’s that girl he’s talking to?”

 

“We should help,” Dino muttered. “Guys shouldn’t loom like that.”

 

Seungkwan opened his eyes at that, frowning a little. Leaning forward, he looked as well. The girl was slim and small, dressed in the same kind of common garb as they were. He shuddered as the guard leant over her, exhaling roughly, and he was just about to agree when the girl raised her hand. It was over in a second as he sat there and gaped. Somehow, despite being the size of some of the toy poodles the staffers had as pets, she closed her hand on the guy’s as he reached for her, twisted and slammed him down onto the ground with a huge thud.

 

“…I don’t think she needs any help,” he muttered, watching with wild eyes.

 

The girl was standing over the huge man with nary a concern, still sipping from her tea, but holding the sheathed blade of a sword pressed deeply into the jowls of fat around his neck.

 

Minghao was staring as well, eyes just as wide. “ _Shaolin luohan quan_ ,” he breathed. “But that’s impossible. She shouldn’t know that at all! I had to beg for most of my life just to see a practitioner!”

 

“Why not, _hyung_?” Chan frowned. “It looks as though she’s really good at it.”

 

“Oh, she is,” Minghao muttered, leaning closer for a better look. “Excellent posture. Look at the way she’s standing.”

 

Jun cleared his throat. “He’s referring to the fact that the monks would never have taught a girl, Chan-ah,” he explained. “That’s one of the oldest Shaolin styles, and for a young girl like that to know it means she was either raised by the monks, or got hold of one of their manuals somehow.”

 

Something tickled at Seungkwan’s mind at that statement, reviving him a little. “…what did you say, _hyung_?” he asked uneasily.

 

The roar of soldiers pouring out of the ramshackle inn and mobbing the young girl nearly drowned the words – not that it mattered, given the speed at which the martial artists in their party stood to run and help. Seungkwan’s head turned against his will, watching through the flail of limbs as the girl unsheathed a long green sword and started to lay about her. His lower lip quivered as the sword sang in the air, a steely hiss and whip-crack of sound that rang in his mind.

 

_This isn’t real, this isn’t…_

 

_Oh my gosh, this isn’t real!_

The moment stretched out infinitely. He could see the sheen of light on Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s face, smell the scent of the mushrooms in the stew, and taste the watery cucumber feel of the moment on the back of his tongue, cloying and thick…

 

“Stop.”

 

The word was tiny, so small he could barely hear it himself, but Jihoon- _hyung_ did somehow, turned to him with a frown on his face. “What was that?”

 

“Stop.” Louder this time, with frustration swirling around him, then loudest still, punching up from his gut in a wellspring of power he could ill afford. “I said STOP!”

 

The moment stretched as the power drove him to his feet, and the world around them… stopped. It was like a movie paused on a specific frame, with people leaning out and unbalanced yet never falling over. The girl’s sword was a flick of green lightning in the air. Near her, Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ nearly tripped as the people freeze-framed around them, looking back to the ramshackle inn with huge eyes.

 

Simmering irritation lit Seungkwan’s veins as he glared around them, then up, mouth set into a flat, irritated pout.

 

“Seungkwan-ah…” Jeonghan said diffidently. “What are you doing?”

 

“Take a look at the girl and the sword,” Seungkwan said tightly as he stomped around their table to force his way outside, still moving in that eternal moment. “Just look at it, okay? Jihoon- _hyung_?”

 

Despite everyone staring and wandering out after him, it was only Jihoon that seemed to click. “Oh my god,” he got out, strangled, and reached out to yank Seungkwan’s shoulder to shake it. “That’s… That’s the Green Destiny!”

 

Seungkwan nodded with a glower. “It is.”

 

“It’s the actual Green Destiny!” Jihoon snarled, turning to kick at a pebble, sending it sailing even in the freeze-framed moment. “The fucking Green Destiny!”

 

“Someone,” Jeonghan’s voice came with a whip-crack of sound, “start making sense, or I’m going to be very unhappy.”

 

“It’s the Green Destiny!” Seungkwan got out. “From the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? Remember when we had that one night we binge-watched all those martial arts movies a few months back? We had that free day the next day, and it was the only thing we could agree on because I didn’t want to watch horror and Seungcheol- _hyung_ didn’t want fantasy, and… and… oh my _god_. Are Jihoon- _hyung_ and I the only two movie-watching buffs around? We’re not trapped in Kung Fu Country, we’re trapped in our minds!”

 

Jeonghan blanched at that. “What?”

 

“We’re trapped in our minds,” Jihoon repeated as the others ran closer to join their huddle. “Look, think about it. You told me that Chan-ah was thinking about _xianxia_ novels, and now we have the Green Destiny… and even the palace politics that I skimmed over, they could have been from a movie we saw, or some experience… and even the tracking! What if we’re all still together, still trapped in that bubble, and it’s just our minds that’re alive? It’s either that, or Seungkwan-ah’s grown into some kind of a god.”

 

Jun stared, looked around him at the people and birds pinned to the sky. “I think that was me,” he muttered. “The palace politics. It’s still like that at the Imperial Court. I just don’t know how so many minds can be having the same weird fantasy world. And some of the food too. I’ve not noticed until now, but there was a lot of southern-style food.”

 

“It would explain why my tracking isn’t working, true,” Minghao muttered. “And the herbs. And a lot of stuff.” He shot a glance towards Jeonghan. “Um… _hyung_. About what we talked about that night just after Jihoon- _hyung_ came back?”

 

Jeonghan’s lips pressed thinly together. “When it happened… I think this link between our minds might be my fault. Jiminie- _hyung_ helped me do something. I _never_ thought we’d be trapped here. I’m still not sure what happened here, but I think…” He took a deep breath. “I think it’s my fault, and I think we’re trapped in here with a bunch of spirits.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Soonyoung said with a frown. “That’s nonsense. You’re a little evil at times, okay, but I can’t see you or Jiminie- _hyung_ doing something that was _bad_ for us, per se. I can’t think of a reason right now, but I’m sure that this is something that’s necessary.”

 

“But I…”

 

Chan leant forward. “We don’t believe that, _hyung_ ,” he said stoutly. “We should think about why it’s helping.”

 

Jun rested back against a balcony railing, frowning as well. “What if we would have been trapped in this thought bubble anyway, but we would have been alone? It would have vastly lowered the chances of us getting out, or resisting. So I think it’s a good thing. It brings up another thought too. Hao-hao, you’ve been tracking alone, and together with myself, but what if you try with Seungkwan-ah? He provided the link for us last time.”

 

“The SMS paper?” Seungkwan asked, brightening. “That did work, huh? I’m up for trying again.”

 

“There’s one last thing,” Jihoon muttered and pointed towards Seungkwan. “Have you noticed that he’s suddenly looking like he has some life to him again?” He tilted his head. “I think at least some of the energy leaving him was to keep this place up and running, like he’s the CPU of wherever this place is. Not all of it, but… you know.”

 

Chan laughed. “He’s an old CPU!” he teased, poking at Seungkwan’s shoulder. “Not enough RAM!”

 

“I have a spoon,” Seungkwan warned them. “A big one. And I won’t feel guilty hitting you lot where Seungmin- _hyung_ can’t see me.”

 

Minghao just shook his head. “I can’t believe that I think this might actually work,” he muttered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally manage to figure out some of what's going on, and return to that thing we call reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this we are done with the arc tentatively entitled 'Jianghu' and more correctly subtitled 'Seven idiots blunder around in an ancient China lookalike'.
> 
> I have made some moodboards for this story, please feel free to check them out on [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/142012348@N07/)'

In the end they waited for daybreak. Somewhere during the night the world resumed its momentum, and dawn found Seungkwan staring out the window of the tiny inn they were in. The pinks and oranges still amazed him, but there was something in the paling blue that made him think of a sunrise over Jeju. He had mostly been in town, where lights were too bright to see the stars go to sleep, but on the odd beach trip it had looked exactly like this. It had really been a charmed life, the land where sunshine grew.

 

It was when he stood there that he realised how long it had been since he had wanted to sing. His mouth opened, then faltered shut, half-afraid. He pinched his eyes shut and opened his mouth again. The breath that came out was almost a note, hovering between aspirated and not. Suddenly, feeling the little inn close in around his head, squeezing everything into a dark frame, he spun on one heel and made his way outside. He wasn’t the most athletic, but he could climb onto a roof if he had to, and he did exactly that. There, with bare feet digging into cold clay tiles, he turned his face to the sunrise and sang.

 

It wasn’t much of a song at all, choked down in his chest, a mere hum of effort. The notes tickled at him, seemed to ripple off into the sunrise, and he closed his eyes as he felt the rays on his face.

 

_Just hold on. Do you hear me? Just hold on. I’m coming._

The promise rang deep inside him, sheltered in the aching hole where half his soul once was, and tears stung at his eyes as he looked away from the dawn. Lightly, very gently, he leapt off the roof and drifted down to the ground in unconscious mimicry of so many wuxia martial artists, landing next to Minghao- _hyung_.

 

“Are you ready?” Minghao asked quietly, pointing the direction they would take out of town. “Over there. Come on. Let the others sleep in a little more.”

 

Seungkwan nodded and followed his _hyung_ out of town. Fifteen minutes, then a whole half-hour of walking before they drew to a stop and Minghao settled down on the lee side of a copse of trees that cast thin shadows before them. Clearing the area he wanted took long as well; he removed sod and what fallen leaves there were, searched for naturally straight twigs and finally used a small knife to score lines in the spring dirt. The square that he ended up with had a surprising intricacy to it, and he leant in to pluck a hair from Seungkwan’s head.

 

“Ow!” Seungkwan muttered. “Hyuuuung…”

 

Minghao grimaced an apology. “I need some kind of link,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

 

Seungkwan frowned. “ _Hyung_ , how did you get into this kind of life? Did you always know you had power?”

 

Frowning as he worked, Minghao shrugged. “The earliest memory I can recall is my mother leaning over my crib to cast a spell for safekeeping,” he muttered. “I could see the lines of the net she wove. I wasn’t old enough to ask what it was, but I remember. The next year I met Jun- _hyung_ , and I was sworn to his service. I was four; it was his fifth birthday. They called it an omen of great luck we were born so close to each other. It makes it awkward when heirs are vastly older or younger than their counterparts, apparently.”

 

Seungkwan winced. “That sounds like a horrible thing. So young?”

 

Brushing a last speck of leaf-matter aside, Minghao looked up at him. “For a long time I hated Jun- _hyung_ for being born,” he finally said. “Because I lost my freedom that day. The worst was that he just took it. I was supposed to be the person closest to him, and yet I was the worst. He didn’t say anything. He just protected me from the court and let me treat him like a dirty rag to walk on.”

 

Feeling his throat swell with sympathy, Seungkwan swallowed. “What happened?” he asked hoarsely. “How did the two of you end up here?”

 

Minghao took a deep breath. “About two years ago, maybe a little more, something happened to draw the court’s attention to South Korea. They were arguing about sending a delegation to Seoul to find out what was going on. There was terrible infighting in the court – it’s not like Bukhansan, where the queen is absolute. It created a lot of chaos, enough that Jun- _hyung_ came to me and ordered me to help him get away. I said yes, because I hated him, I hated not having my freedom, and anything that’d see him cast from his position at court through no direct fault of my own was ok with me.”

 

He paused for breath, and Seungkwan sighed. “What a mess, _hyung_ ,” he said quietly. “What caused you to come here then?”

 

“I found out what he had been protecting me from at court,” Minghao explained. “I could have handled that still. It would have been tough, but I would have survived. The real reason is… I found out too late that he had been my best friend, and I _missed_ him. The way he used to hug me, or hang off me too lazy to move, even his annoyingly perfectly pitched falsetto. The year that followed was tough, and finally I couldn’t take it anymore. When they spoke of sending someone else, I went to his father and begged him on my knees to send me instead.”

 

Seungkwan watched him carve the symbols, eyelashes thick and wet with tears. “And now?” he asked. “We’ve been together for a few years now, and I never noticed any of this. You don’t still hate him, right? You’ve forgiven each other?”

 

Minghao looked up with a smile. “Jun- _hyung_ forgave me the moment I saw him,” he said. “We kept things quiet from the rest of you, but everything’s okay now. I’m only angry now when I have to drag him out of bed to get to the practice room, because he’s so lazy! Anyway, I’m ready to start if you are.”

 

Fighting down a shudder in his throat, Seungkwan dashed his sleeve over his eyes and nodded. He stretched out his hands when Minghao beckoned for them, and held them on the space pointed out to him. Through that space he could feel the careful unfurling of energies that Minghao pressed into the ground, saw the ribbons of light start along the lines his _hyung_ had carved into the ground. For a second the spell faltered, and Minghao’s lips pressed together, but in a curlicue of energy the hair in the middle of it went up in flame and acrid smoke, and the ritual kicked into being.

 

The energies lifted off the ground and settled on the back of Seungkwan’s left hand, shining and precise like a compass made of energy. Suddenly he knew, he _knew_ where his energy had been going, and he wanted to weep.

 

“Do you know where he is?” Minghao asked tightly. “Is it working?”

 

“Yes,” Seungkwan said, feeling his heart sink into a bottomless pit. “Oh yes.”

 

=============================================

 

 The walk to the inn calmed him only insofar as he didn’t cry again, but he couldn’t pretend the predicament wasn’t the largest he had ever faced. He wanted into the room after Minghao, uncharacteristically silent, and sunk down on a pillow, defeated.

 

“He’s being tortured,” he said into the growing calm, and watched the hopeful expression on their faces fall. “He was here the first of all of us, and we haven’t found any spirits beyond that one to exorcise because they’re all _there_. Torturing him. I can’t tell why, but that’s where my energy’s been going. Somehow… somehow something in me knew he needed the energy more than I did.” He swallowed. “Monsters, not of face but of soul, escaped from some place I can’t describe, and with them all a woman with a cold face and white hair, dressed in a robe of feathers. She’s the worst.” His hands shook, and he sat on them not to fly apart.

 

“What?” Jeonghan asked without his customary drawl. “Since… since the start?”

 

Seungkwan’s smile wasn’t humorous. “Time is odd here, but since his start some… four months or so ago? Somewhere high in the mountains. I couldn’t get a clear picture, since he’s not sure himself what a day is anymore. But that’s where my energy’s been going. Keeping him sane.”

 

Jeonghan’s lips thinned so much they appeared two thin white lines. “Did the ritual work?” he demanded of Minghao. “Do we know where to go?”

 

Minghao nodded quietly. “It worked. Look at the back of his hand. Seungkwan-ah, show them.”

 

He plucked his left hand out beneath him again and showed off the febrile, glimmering compass, showed them how the ‘needle’ turned to stay in a single direction.

 

“Soonyoung-ah,” Jeonghan muttered.

 

“Got it, I’ll need a lot of food but I can do it. Two batches. It’ll be uncomfortable, but as fast as I can make it.”

 

Jeonghan nodded. “Jun-ah, Minghao-ah, we still have some money left, but I don’t care. Even if you have to steal the food, get as much as you can.”

 

Jun and Minghao stood, nodding imperceptibly before they left the room.

 

“Jihoonie, you’re our hidden weapon. I’m going to send you in the first batch with Seungkwan-ah and Minghao-ah – between the two of you, keep him safe, but I leave them in your hands. Protect them until we get there as well.”

 

Jihoon nodded, eyes gleaming oddly. “Don’t worry. People only underestimate me once. Seungkwan-ah, get up.” He paused, frowning at Seungkwan’s vague look. “I said get up!” he snapped, and stood to haul him up. “You can’t get lost now. Come on.”

 

Seungkwan went, mouth occasionally falling open, but he couldn’t make words come out at all.

 

 

Some hours later, having been transported to a mountain temple that gleamed rose gold and faded green like some improbably Tuscan palace, he could still not make words come out. He was curled into the side of a little jut of rock, staring blindly at the world with unfocused eyes. The vague ripple in front of him might have been Minghao- _hyung_ ’s cloak or a series of mountains for all that he had power to discern it. He could hear them whispering faintly to each other, but most of his concentration was taken by the memory of Hansolie’s screams.

 

“Seungkwan-ah!” The harsh whisper came with a pinch on his arm, pain shocking him back to the present and Minghao- _hyung_ ’s worried face. Behind him Jihoon- _hyung_ loomed, small face set in a displeased scowl. “Have you heard anything we’ve said so far?”

 

Seungkwan shook his head slowly. “No,” he said simply. “I’m listening to something else.”

 

The two shot each other a wary look before Minghao-ah handed over one of the spears he took so long ago in Bridal Veil Pass. The wood felt cold and inflexible in Seungkwan’s trembling hand, but it served to tie him down to the world somewhat. He ran his thumb up and down, feeling the smoothed grain of the wood under his fingers.

 

Jihoon leant closer. “Do you want to rescue Hansol-ah?” he asked flatly. “If you do, you can’t check out now. You’ve always been a protector, Seungkwan-ah. You’ve stood up and taken punishments for the rest of us, you’ve made a clown of yourself so that we laugh. I want you to take that strength and I want you to concentrate and get through the next hour. Just the next hour. That’s all I ask, that’s all anyone has the right to ask. Can you do that?”

 

“I…” Seungkwan swallowed, dragged himself back to concentrating by force of will. “I can.”

 

Jihoon clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah?” he asked.

 

Seungkwan nodded. “Yes, _hyung_.”

 

Leaning back, Jihoon gave him a fierce smile. “Good boy.”

 

“Jun- _hyung_ , Soonyoung- _hyung_ and I are going to do most of the fighting if we have to,” Minghao continued. “He’s blessed that spear already, so if a ghost comes towards you, or anything threatens you, _use it_. Our goal here is to get Hansol-ah out as quickly as possible. None of us are violent men, but he’s our broth…”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan interrupted. “If it’d help Hansolie get out of there, I’ll shove this spear straight up the first ghostly asshole I see. I’ll do it. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of whatever is in me hurting him like this.”

 

Another clap on his shoulder, this time from Minghao, along with a proud smile. “Good. Keep that thought.”

 

The others arrived some few hours later, and they quickly dressed in the soldiers’ outfits Jeonghan had bribed away from a maid. The clothes felt like a shroud around Seungkwan, itchy and stinking, but the weight of them calmed him down a little, banked the wild anger in him to something cooler, far more vicious. He didn’t have time to consider how adorable Chan looked in his little cap, or how Jeonghan was struggling to club his hair back.

 

Composing themselves, they turned to file out onto the switchback road in the blind spot Soonyoung had led them to, and arranged themselves sloppily into the semblance of a group of soldiers. Jeonghan, at the front, had an imperious look on his face, one he kept all the way to the gate. Once there, he raised his hand to thump his fist into the gate once, twice, then three times. The sound boomed out hollowly over the space beyond, and fell quiet.

 

He did it again, then once more, until the sound of shuffling feet came from the other side and a small window opened in the main gate, showing a weathered face. From what Seungkwan could see, his hair was shaved off entirely, and whilst he didn’t scowl there was a mean cast to his eyebrows that he didn’t like. He also looked like someone had beat his face in with a stick, given the bruise across one side. “Yes?”

 

“Most noble monk,” Jeonghan started as he held up the seal on the letter they had stolen. “Our Imperial master sends us on an errand of some urgency. We require lodgings, word with your abbot and access to the oracle.”

 

Behind him, Seungkwan saw Jihoon wrinkle his nose, a confused expression appearing on his face. He snapped his glance away, petrified that he’d give the ruse away somehow.

 

“I… ah,” the monk got out. “Now is really…”

 

“How dare you impede the will of his Imperial Majesty?” Jeonghan screamed, shaking the letter.

 

_“Oh my god, hyung’s overacting,”_ Seungkwan heard Chan mutter behind him, likely to Minghao. _“He’s so lucky that he’s pretty…”_ He didn’t see who thumped him, but heard the tiny ‘ow!’

 

The monk eyed the seal, eyed the screaming ‘soldier’ and grumbled, slamming the little window shut. Moments later they heard the sound of a boom being removed and the gates swung open, revealing the interior courtyard. It was massive and pristinely clean, with buildings scattered around it. Everything looked fine, pleasant with the gravel raked and paper charms swinging from the trees, but Seungkwan knew the moment he stepped inside that something was wrong. It was… it was…

 

“Wait here,” the monk ordered shortly. “I will see if the abbot wishes to receive you.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jihoon muttered once he was out of earshot. “I smell blood. I think something happened here.”

 

Soonyoung, adjusting the helmet around his cheeks, paused and frowned. “You can smell blood?” he asked with morbid fascination. “Is that even a thing outside anime?”

 

Jihoon scowled at him. “It’s for real, _hyung_. That thick, cloying metallic smell? That’s all over this place. I can’t think how you can’t smell it, to be honest.”

 

“Hm,” Jeonghan muttered. “And shouldn’t we have seen more people around by now?”

 

Seungkwan discreetly monitored the glowing compass on his hand. “He’s off towards the left,” he muttered, tilting his hand to Minghao. “I think we’re close?”

 

“Underground,” Minghao muttered. “And yes, if this were a real temple we should have seen at least some apprentices around sweeping up or something.”

 

Chan shivered. “It’s so cold here though…”

 

Jun, stepping forward, eyed Chan as if he were an interesting specimen. “What do you mean by cold?” he asked curiously. “It’s spring, it’s not that cold.”

 

“It feels like winter, _hyung_ ,” Chan shivered. “And it’s getting colder…”

 

Jun eyed him, turned to Minghao with a frown, then stepped outside their little formation, closing his eyes. He said something that the magic of the place they were in didn’t translate. “The dead are here,” he translated as Jeonghan shot him a look. “Ghosts, like we faced before. They’re on their way. I’d say we’ve been discovered.”

 

Overhead the weather rumbled angrily with a storm that came out of nowhere, and Seungkwan could feel the temperature fall like a rock. It cost effort to make his fingers let go, and this time he didn’t ask for permission. Instead, hearkening back to Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s story, he wrapped not his mind, but his sense of self around the small group and _moved_ , moved into a direction that had no up or down, but landed them inside a filthy, stinking cell with little light, just enough to see a thin, raggedly-dressed body flinch away from them.

 

_Hansol_ , his mind sang. _Hansol, Hansol, Hansol…_

 

He fell to his knees, uncaring of the matted filth he was kneeling in, and reached out with gentle hands to try and calm him.

 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jeonghan- _hyung_ cursed, straightening from the slight crouch. “I… this is… Hansol-ah? Someone? Anyone?”

 

Even in the cell they were in the weather boomed and rattled, shaking the mountain furiously.

 

“Hansolie,” Seungkwan said gently, as gently as he could make his voice. “It’s okay, we’re here now. We came for you.”

 

Hansol managed the strength to lift his head, press his cheek into Seungkwan’s palm, and stare straight into his eyes. His voice sounded raw, likely screamed that way. “The storm is coming,” he babbled. “A thick green line through furious clouds, tearing them apart, until the seventeen stars dim against the night sky. Blood drips from the knife’s edge, splattering flowers into our skin, soaking in, soaking in whilst the moon watches and cries…”

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Soonyoung said, voice thick with horror. “Please tell me he’s not doing what he’s doing.”

 

Minghao stared down at the slice of face visible past Seungkwan’s shoulder. “…he’s the oracle,” he got out faintly.

 

Hansol’s hands strained to reach Seungkwan, rattling the cuffs that restricted them. “It’s coming!” he shouted. “It’s coming, the green dragon is coming! It’s coming to make fire-flowers against the sky, it likes them, it’s coming!”

 

Behind them, the door to the cell rattled and Jun cursed, shoving everyone away as he tried to brace it with a spear.

 

Seungkwan watched powerlessly as Hansol’s consciousness devolved into screams and snarls, oaths never to tell, and all he could do was listen with horror, folding the thin, beaten body into his arms. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ ,” he said in a fit of panic. “ _Hyung_ … I don’t…”

 

Everything before them went white as they crashed back to reality, seeing the ghosts snarl through the cell’s doorway. The bubble collapsed, Jun’s spell went off with a bang and the ghosts screamed as his staff sucked them up. Seungkwan, having to wrestle with an uncooperative Hansol, nearly cursed in full view of everyone at the wedding. Instead, looking to Dino, they managed to drag Hansol in behind the curtain as the people outside roared and screamed their approval, apparently under the impression that it was a display to impress them.

 

Seungkwan slammed his hand down over Hansol’s mouth, shaking him with it until he saw a measure of clarity come back into his gaze. “It’s me. You don’t have to trust me, but it’s me. It’s Seungkwan. We’re back. You’re safe now.” Outside, as the weather turned from spring-mild to what sounded like a torrential downpour, the crowd was still going wild. Sensing a body next to him, he had a bare second to look up and recognise Jiminie- _hyung_ before Hansol went unconscious beneath him.

 

“Get up,” Jiminie- _hyung_ hissed. “Get out there, go sing, I’ll watch over him. No one noticed anything. Go!”

 

Dino scrambled up, used to obeying authority, but it took Seungkwan some time to make his limbs move.

 

======================================================

 

They finished the performances, left the married couple to tour the hall and scooted outside. Outside, dressed in a quickly-donned thick outfit, a sparrow-spirit waited for them and beckoned them to a part of Bukhansan they had never been in. The group was silent as they toured through hallways filled with ancient arts. Seungcheol, aware that something had happened with that sixth sense any parent soon develops, waited until they were escorted into a large suite before he turned on the band. “Someone speak,” he ordered, even as he watched Seungkwan run away through a door into what was presumably the bedroom of the place.

 

Jisoo, looking equally as confused, scanned the members of the band. Soonyoung and Jihoon were standing closer together than they ever had before, Jun and Minghao were doing… he wasn’t quite sure what, but it looked an awful lot like spies scoping out a place, and Channie was clinging to Jeonghan like a frightened baby, which scared him on a number of levels.

 

When the door to the suite burst open Jun and Minghao were on it like vultures on a corpse, only falling back when they saw Kookie- _hyung_ on the other side.

 

Their _hyung_ held up his hands slowly and stared them down. Everyone fell silent, silent thick enough that they could hear Seungkwan crying from the bedroom, that and the frantic murmurs of someone else, voice low and sure, before all noise abruptly cut off.

 

“Please sit down,” Kookie- _hyung_ asked slowly. “Everyone. There should be enough seats and pillows. You’re safe. I promise. I’m here, Tae- _hyung_ is right outside the windows.” Said windows rattled with a boom-crack, as if the skies were displeased, and the lights flickered slowly before steadying. He grimaced as, distantly behind him, a kit’s high, thin wail sounded at the sudden noise. “Shit. Okay, I’m sorry about this.” He pulled the door closed behind him, resting back against it.

 

Seungcheol stared at him intently. “Sit down, everyone,” he finally said. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere in this weather.”

 

====================================================

 

Seungkwan hovered over Hansol’s one side as Jiminie- _hyung_ knelt on the bed on his other side, small hands wrapped around his forehead. He had run in here with his _hyung_ already working on his friend, and had witnessed him going from frantic all the way to somnolent.

 

“I’m not half the healer Jin- _hyung_ is,” Jiminie- _hyung_ apologised. “He’s greeting people though, he can’t come right now. I can keep him stable at least. Take his hand. You’re going to have to help.”

 

Seungkwan shuffled a little closer on his knees, dashing his tears away on a sleeve, before he took one of Hansol’s hands in his, holding it gently. “Anything,” he muttered, and meant it. “This is all my fault. That stupid choice I had to make… I don’t regret you getting out, _hyung_ , but he’s hurting so much…”

 

“Shh,” Jiminie- _hyung_ urged. “It’s okay. That choice wasn’t your mistake, but I promise you, the person that forced it is paying for their decision now, more so than I could ever want to bear. Jinnie- _hyung_ will slip out whenever he can and come and help. Stupidly large wedding. Who ever heard of inviting this many people? This is a sports game, not a wedding!”

 

“He said some things… whilst we were trapped, right at the end. Minghao-ah said he was being an oracle,” Seungkwan demanded. “Is that true? Please tell me it’s not true. There’s no way he can be one, right? He’s just plain Hansol, there’s nothing, um, magically special about him!”

 

His _hyung_ gave him a long stare. Finally he sighed. “We haven’t told you much about where your grandmother’s people came from,” he finally said, concentrating on Hansol again. “I know we said something vague about Heaven, but remember how I told you it was a really distant land and that her soul… well, it left you, but it left her powers behind?”

 

At Seungkwan’s hesitant nod he continued. “One of the characteristics of the people there is that they are not bound to time the same as people here are. To them it’s just another dimension, like width and height is to us. They can see it, but they don’t experience it the same as we do. They look at it from the outside. They just… _do._ It’s hard to explain, because I don’t have the scientific knowledge to back up the explanation. So… when she left that’s one of the, um, gifts that she left behind.”

 

“It sounds more like a curse,” Seungkwan muttered. “Minghao-ah said most oracles are insane because they see from outside time and inside it simultaneously.”

 

Jimin- _hyung_ grimaced. “It can be a curse, and he was right. Think of it like looking into both sides of a straw at the same moment. Your mind goes boing and you see such a small bit anyway it’s not worth the headache that you get.” He paused. “Look. I’m telling you stuff I really have no right to tell you, but it’s needed, I think. You know Hansol-ah is very fond of you, right? He looks up to you and you two have been friends since you started as idols. He’d do anything to protect you.”

 

Seungkwan frowned. “Is this about the ahjumma that slapped me the other day?”

 

Blinking, Jimin- _hyung_ looked up at him. “Beg pardon?”

 

“You know, about a week ago when one of the stylist ahjummas got angry at Channie… Seungcheol- _hyung_ told me that, um, Seungmin- _hyung_ and Yoongi- _hyung_ were dealing with it?”

 

He had never quite seen Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s eyes flash that molten amber. “I… okay, I’ll find out what that was about, and no. I just meant that you two are dear to each other. You were already going through a tough time and you just could not handle more on top of that. He must have subconsciously wanted to help, and the gifts took that as permission of sorts to migrate over.”

 

“How could that just happen?” Seungkwan demanded. “All this bond has ever done was harm him! Can’t you make it stop?”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ sighed and straightened. “We can blunt his perceptions a little, but no. We can’t make it stop. That’d be like taking someone’s eyes away, and even if I was okay with that, there’s one significant hurdle. Even now, he doesn’t _want_ it to stop. He wants that bond to you, Seungkwanie, not just because it makes him a little less lonely and frightened in this world, but because he genuinely admires you as a person.”

 

Seungkwan stared at him, gobsmacked. “I…what? Why?”

 

“You’d have to ask him,” Jiminie- _hyung_ murmured. “I don’t understand it either; I mean, Yoongi- _hyung_ and I have a similar bond, but I don’t understand why he finds me worthy either. It’s one of those life-long questions, I’m afraid. You’ll have to talk it out with him.”

 

Seungkwan stared down at Hansol’s vulnerable face as Jiminie- _hyung_ pulled away, leaning down to press his forehead against his. “You silly,” he got out. “I’m the _hyung_ , I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”

 

===================================================

 

_Min Yoongi._

_Hark, the loquaicious mental voice of my love._

_Min Yoongi, don’t bullshit me. What is this I hear about someone hitting one of the boys?_

_…oh shit._

_Oh shit is right, how could you hide something like that from me!_

_You were busy with this wedding madness, it was dealt with the same day and we’re keeping a closer eye on things. This is what you hired me for, Park Jimin._

_I didn’t hire you!_

_You did, it’s right there in my work contract. I could show you if you need a refresher. You pay me in Americanos and Kumamon sweater wearing cuddles._

_Min Yoongi!_

_Jagi, it was dealt with. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you straight away, but we wanted them in one piece to dismiss, okay?_

_The next time you do this kind of thing, I swear I’m actually going to yell at you._

_Let’s hope there’s not a next time. How are the two in there doing?_

_Still bonded. I tried to break it, but it’s more tenacious than Jungkookie on a fitness kick. It doesn’t help that neither of them really want to lose it._

_Jimin… please tell me this is one of those bonds where it’s only a really good friendship bond._

_Don’t know, hyung, but I doubt it._

_Shit. At the same time though, does it make sense that I’m … happy for them ahead of the fact?_

_You’re so soft, hyung._

_As soft as your hands?_

_Hyung! That’s so cheesy. Don’t try to distract me with your cheesiness, I’m still mad!_

_I only tell the truth._

_Stop being cute, okay? Hyung, we have to fix this somehow._

_We can’t fix it, Sunshine. Only they can. Are you almost done there? I’m freezing my ass off at this party without you._

_Yeah… I guess. I’m on my way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So, I kind of managed to delete previous story, all the notes and comments with a stupid mouse-click. I feel like an idiot. 
>   2. Going for that operation in two days, so please don't expect an update soon. 
> 



	15. Chapter 15

The night was thick with rain and thunder when Seungkwan arrived at the dorm. For once he wasn’t one of the loudest members; the others made quite a bit more noise as they split up, some crowding into the lift and some taking the stairs. As he eventually chose the latter, he made his way up the stairs slowly on the dimly-lit stairwell – some of the lights were out again – and paused to look at the slim windows he passed on his way up, at the way the rain hit the panes of glass. It felt oddly relaxing, even though it was a storm and a half outside.

 

Dino came past him nearly five minutes later, and he waved him on upwards to get dry, turning to sit on the stairs instead. He felt … odd. His belly was full and for once he wasn’t feeling exhaustion pull at his bones. Rather, it was a feeling of relaxation almost, sitting there in the half-dark listening to the noise.

 

Hansol didn’t remember a thing from what they could tell. Whatever trauma his mind had gone through, being tortured for months, he had suppressed it until even they couldn’t get to the memories. Yoongi- _hyung_ had had a long conversation with the rest of them, warning not to say anything, and everyone had listened.

 

He could tell it wasn’t what everyone wanted. Oh, Mingyu- _hyung_ and Wonwoo- _hyung_ had accepted it on the face of it, and Seokmin- _hyung_ was too busy joking around to really listen, but Seungcheol- _hyung_ had looked as if he wanted to pull a stuck Band-Aid off quickly, and even Jisoo- _hyung_ ’s normally-calm demeanour had seemed a little ruffled.

 

He sighed, misting the windowpane, and slumped sideways into the wall for support, eyes still focused on the storm outside as he let his mind drift. Minutes later, when the blanket settled down over his shoulders, he was surprised to see Jihoon- _hyung_ on the other side of it – they had shared an adventure but they didn’t really talk much normally, beyond the conversation and jokes he shared with everyone in the band.

 

“Protect your throat.” Gruffly said, but kindly meant.

 

Seungkwan sighed and nodded, unfurling the blanket to wrap around him, and was shocked for a second time when his _hyung_ sat down and joined him under it. They formed a strange picture, one that a cruel person might have called ‘The Fatso and The Girl’. His mind shuddered away from the thought and he pouted unhappily.

 

Jihoon waited him out, content to sit and stare at the rain with him. The light from outside cast strange, runny water shadows on his face, making him look altogether fey.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan finally said. “I think I have a problem.”

 

Jihoon nodded slowly. “Not that I gave Seokmin-ah the first lines of the chorus in Shining Diamond, I take it?” he asked gravely.

 

Seungkwan sniffed, curled down into the blanket. “ _Hyung_. No. An actual serious problem.” He stared down at his hands, rubbing one thumb into the back of the other. “Whilst we were over there in Kung Fu Country, I missed Hansol a lot. I used to talk to him, you know? Even though he wasn’t there to actually talk to. I promised I’d find him. It started looking like a huge quest…”

 

“Hmm,” Jihoon murmured. “We did kind of blunder around too much for it to be an actual quest. I mean, any movie director would have told us to get off set. But okay, yes?”

 

“And now we have him, and he doesn’t know that anything happened, and I don’t know what to do, _hyung_ , because I think… I think…”

 

Jihoon looked up the stairwell, then down, pitching his voice low. “Because you were gearing up for heroic action and then it disappeared on you, and you were forced to confront why you feel so sulky and what he actually means to you?” He reached out to take one of Seungkwan’s hands. “It’s normal, you know? Soonyoung- _hyung_ sulked for a whole night because he didn’t get to ‘rescue’ me.”

 

Seungkwan sniffed and nodded, trying to not let tears well up again. “I don’t know how I feel about him,” he muttered, getting that bomb off his soul. “I honestly don’t know. He’s so _serious_ , and we have this goddamned stupid push-and-pull relationship and now I want to lock him up and keep him safe, and he’s just going to look at me and think I’m weird.”

 

“Seungkwan-ah,” Jihoon muttered, leaning close enough to whisper. “Look. Never mind what society tells you, liking a boy isn’t sinful and wrong. Look at our _hyung_ s. You’d be hard-pressed to find normal couples that look at each other like they do. If you really like him, if you don’t… I only have a small piece of advice for now. Are you listening?”

 

Seungkwan sniffed again, dashing tears away.

 

“We’re close to debut, and you’ve been under a lot of stress. Think of yourself first for a while, give your mind a little leeway to unkink. The rest… well, you’ll eventually figure that out, and then we can go from there. Right now though, it’s not the right time. Okay? Not just because I want to debut well with you, but because you’re hurt and confused, and you’ve _got_ to let that settle in first.” He reached up to wrap his arm around Seungkwan’s shaking back. “I understand what you’re going through.”

 

“ _Hyung_ , you…”

 

“Shh,” Jihoon ordered. “If you name him, he _will appear_ , and then we’ll have no rest. Now come on. You need sleep, okay?”

 

=====================================================

 

Seungkwan woke to the sound of the alarm going off at eight. This close to debut they weren’t attending classes, being too busy recording the sessions for the last of the debut broadcast. It was reflex to feel for the ring on his finger again, slightly too large after weeks on the new eating plan. He blinked up at the bed above his, then worm-crawled to the end so that he could get out.

 

Padding to the kitchen, trying to scrape his hair back into place and not curse at the humidity that lingered from the rain yesterday. About to check the schedule on their fridge, he paused as Chan snuck inside, clad only in a thin singlet and shorts, spiky hair speckled with what seemed like more rain. “Trash run?” he asked quietly, frowning. “Chan-ah, put on a jacket before you get a cold, this weather is being very treacherous.”

 

Chan shot him a _look_ but mumbled a morning, going to steal the closest of the discarded hoodies so that he could pull that on. “I was hoping it would be sunny today,” he muttered as he returned, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. “We have that health stuff if you want. Do you think they’ll notice if we eat it with jam? I miss jam.”

 

“The sugar isn’t that good for you,” Seungkwan lectured as he dug through the fridge for the green stuff Jin- _hyung_ made for him, taking a healthy swig of it. “I certainly wish health tasted better though, this is _gross._ ” He paused. “Hey. Channie. Where’d your horns go? They were kinda cute.”

 

“Dunno, they were gone when we came back,” the maknae muttered. “Do you want to… ah, morning, Jeonghan- _hyung_.”

 

“Coffee. Now,” Jeonghan croaked as he came from the direction of the bedroom.

 

Seungkwan pulled an apologising face and handed him his cup instead, inwardly glad he wasn’t the only one to suffer under Jin’s meticulous ideas about herbal torture. It seemed to help though; though his _hyung_ shuddered and pulled a ferocious face, he finished the cup and straightened until his spine popped.

 

“Y’know,” Chan got in from the side. “I like singing, but I don’t know if I want to be part of the vocal team _that_ badly.”

 

Seungkwan side-eyed him, irritation flaring in his chest at the little shit-eating grin on the maknae’s face. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said sweetly. “Channie went outside to drop the trash in bare feet and shoulders again.”

 

“Chan-ah! You should be more careful, what if…”

 

Grinning, Seungkwan waltzed out of the kitchen and went to sneak into the bathroom ahead of schedule. Half an hour later, washed up and with enough energy in him to actually wake up, he went to join the Wake-Woozi-Up brigade, collecting a hug from Seungcheol- _hyung_ on the way, as well as a quick, nervous smile in Hansol’s direction. He covered for the awkwardness by grabbing his phone and ducking into the bedroom to the sight of Soonyoung- _hyung_ with hands around one of Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s ankles, trying to flop him awake like a worm.

 

“It’s gonna take more than Son Dambi today,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ warned. “He’s being _stubborn_.”

 

As if to underline that, the weather outside rumbled as Jihoon- _hyung_ stole his foot back and grumbled, rolling over and over in his little blanket-burrito so that he could hide in a corner.

 

“What about Big Bang sunbaenim? You dance, I sing?”

 

“What about I sing and you dance?” Soonyoung- _hyung_ offered.

 

“What about no?” came from the burrito.

 

Seokmin popped his head into the room. “Am I too late to … ah, he’s still asleep! What are we singing?”

 

“Fantastic Baby~”

 

It was a bad morning for Jihoon- _hyung_ from that point onward. BooSeokSoon admitted no defeat.

 

==============================================

 

Stepping into the studio felt like coming home. Jihoon worked hard, but his studio was his healing time, where he could sit and think and perfect things. This close to the debut – merely two weeks now – everything was actually slowing down. They had received news that they’d be having a surprise the last day, Soonyoung had been drilling them on the dances for the debut showcase, and it felt as if everyone was taking a chill pill somehow. No drama from the maknae line, no drama from the _hyung_ line… everything was blissful.

 

He murmured a greeting to Yoo – Bumzu- _hyung_ , he should remember that name – and sat down in the main producer’s chair. It was good talking music again, and he pulled up the library of music that he was busy with so that they could touch base. Somehow, having someone else that knew what he was about listen to his music still felt weird; he knew full well that most of his songs weren’t good enough, but this was the process to getting them there. One could take inspiration from one song, paste it into another, and come up with something altogether wondrous.

 

“This one,” Bumzu- _hyung_ said as they listened to the guide version of Simple. “What is going on here?”

 

Jihoon listened to the bits of lyrics and track that he did last night. He had almost pulled an all-nighter to get them in and mixed, and they sounded surprisingly good. “It’s about growing up,” he finally said. “When you’re a kid, you think like a kid. Everything is simple to you, everything falls in place because there’s always someone sheltering you. When you grow up all that falls away and you think back to what seemed so simple, but now is anything but. Like it’s this cloud of worries around you.”

 

Bumzu hummed approvingly. “And?”

 

“A lot of this came to me whilst we were trapped. Happiness really was only a dream them, and I couldn’t see a way out, and I was so stressed that I wanted everything to just smooth out. To go away so that things could be simple again.”

 

“But…?”

 

“But then I saw my friends again and I could breathe again for the first time in weeks. I had my brothers there, and I knew that if I got lost they would lead me out. We do that for each other. They’re my happiness, you know? All of this work, all the stress and pain and hardship, it’ll pay off one day.” Jihoon sighed and sank back against the chair. “Have you ever had a moment like that, Bumzu- _hyung_? Where you looked up and something just made all your worries flatten out like they’re not there?”

 

Bumzu listened to a piece of track again, giving him a side-eye. “Yes,” he said simply. “I get what you mean. It’s one of the things that makes this song powerful. We’ve all been in that situation, we all long for things to be simple again, and we all have those moments where our worries disappear and it’s this queasy, wonderful rush of adrenaline and giddiness.”

 

Jihoon considered his profile for the moment. “Are you working on anything for yourself, _hyung_?”

 

“Curious?” Bumzu teased, but nodded, pulling up his personal musical library. “I’ll play you something I wrote a long time ago.” Clicking on ‘It Doesn’t Matter’, he shunted the track to Jihoon’s headphones and stood to idle out to the fridge. When he came back, the short idol was sitting there staring at the screen, mouth uneasily folded into a thin line, but he was tapping his finger with as he listened to the beat again. Saying nothing, Bumzu sank down on the couch and observed, sipping slowly at his coffee.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jihoon finally asked as he lifted the headphones to his neck. “It makes me kind of sad. You have all this talent and you have to hide behind different faces. Haven’t you ever thought of becoming a performer yourself?”

 

Grimacing, the elder shook his head. “You answered your own question there,” he murmured, letting his face melt back to Yoongi’s delicate features. “Which face would I be behind? How would I keep that up? Bumzu’s personality serves me well enough; it gives me a reason to be here and watch over you lot, but I also get time to work on my own music. I’m making my own kind of happiness, you know.” He considered Jihoon. “I can see a question boiling behind your eyes.”

 

Jihoon cleared his throat. “What’s it like for you and Jiminie- _hyung_ , having a bond and… you know. Neither the idol industry nor the populace at large are okay with gay idols, and you have to be around people. I admire people like Holland-ssi so much, but I don’t know if I could ever do that. It’s something the guys in the group are going to have to face sooner or later...”

 

Another sip of coffee. “There are people that look strangely at us, and people that are rude because we’re together, but in most cases it’s jealousy. I’m taking him ‘off the market’ so to speak, because we’re both men, and denying some good woman out there her husband. Two good women. Some of it is linked to people believing that the only riches one can really have is what is in your genetic code to transmit forward through your children. Tons of reasons, really. But at the end of the day, when we go to bed together, it’s just us, and we’re happy like that. I advise you to find your courage in the way that works for you, whether you end up liking guys or girls, or someone from an alien race, or a robot. It’s your happiness that counts, not what someone else thinks… like in your song. Everyone else’s opinions are a cloud, and it falls to you to chase your happiness however you can.”

 

Jihoon grunted softly, eyes fixed on the edge of the table.

 

Yoongi took pity on him, took back the face he worked under here, and handed his coffee cup sideways. “Here,” he muttered. “I won’t tell if you won’t. You’ll figure it out sometime. I promise you will.”


	16. Chapter 16

Over the years of opening up the studio Hobi had found plenty of people waiting for him. Mostly they looked as if life dragged them through the gutter, or so high that he had to scrape them off the ceiling. This girl was different. Not only did she have a small bag that he vaguely remembered being popular once upon a time, but she wasn’t shaking or as rabidly hungry as a wolf. That was a new one for him.

 

“Good morning!” he carolled out, adjusting his knit tote to the other side, and smiled down at her. “You’re a little early.”

 

She glanced up at him, tucked her phone away and slowly uncurled to her feet. Tallish, at least for a girl, and her eyes were lucid – also very, very pretty. “Good morning,” she greeted in a calm, even voice, and reached into her back pocket to haul out a grubby card. “A guy gave me this at a festival the other day, said I should consider coming to dance here.”

 

Hobi took the card, considered what the painfully neat folds in it said, to say nothing of the way the paper felt worn smooth, as if she had opened it and closed it and stared at it a handful of times. ‘Sunshine Studio’ was still bold enough to read, but the ‘Hope on the Street’ below it was almost completely worn off. He handed it back, feeling oddly as if he had taken someone’s prized possession. “What kind of a guy?” he asked curiously. “I don’t normally hand those out, my business is more word of mouth.”

 

The girl twitched her shoulders slightly forward, hunching protectively. “Young, kinda pretty, in the idol business. We were at a music festival in Apgujeong-dong, at the mall there. There were a bunch of idols there. Danced kind of like Michael Jackson.”

 

Hobi’s smile spread. “You mean Dino? Lee Chan, that’s his real name, and he happens to love Michael Jackson. He asked me for some cards – look, do you want to come in? We don’t formally open until ten on Sundays, but you’re welcome to come in and sit.”

 

She mumbled something that might have been affirmative and waited for him to enter, slowly and conscientiously shutting the door behind herself as he led the way into the small reception area. The summer colours he and the kids had painted the last weekend made it look bright and inviting. Dropping his keys behind the desk, he hauled his tote off, flicked the coffee machine on and smiled at her, all in the same movement. “I’m Jung Hoseok. You can call me Hobi- _oppa_ if you wish, everyone here does.”

 

“I’m Sora,” the girl murmured, crossing her hands on her abdomen and giving him a very deep bow. “Choi Sora. I am honoured to meet you.”

 

 _Formal_ , Hobit judged. _Very formal, but very natural too, as if she’s done it a lot_.

 

“May I call you Sora-ssi?” he murmured, grinning at her nod. “Sora-ssi, what kind of dance is it you want to do? Do you have experience in anything?”

 

Feeling more and more as if he was closing in on a puzzle piece of some complexity, he watched her fiddle with a small stack of flower-shaped post-its until the edges of the tiny yellow papers were ruffled just like real flower petals.

 

“I can dance,” Sora said shortly. “But I’ve had no formal training in it. It’s just a… just a hobby, Hobi-oppa. It’s, um, not quite what my mother approves of. She’s put me in a Joseon dance class.” A deep breath in. “But I thought…” She trailed off and reached behind her to drag out a wallet, producing a black credit card.

 

Hobi’s eyes arched at the sight of that card. Not many people coming his studio’s way had money at all, let alone a card that could likely pay for a building. _No wonder Dino-ya sent her to me. I wonder if he knew? It looks like there’s more trouble here than visible on the surface._ “It depends on what you want, or how you help out around the place. This is a mix of a dance studio, a soup kitchen and a bit of an informal halfway house.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you a student, Sora-ssi? High school or university?”

 

Her shoulders slumped a little. “I’m seventeen this year. I’m enrolled at Jinmyeong Girl’s High. It was my mother’s old school.”

 

 _And that_ , Hobi privately decided, _said as much as any of the details I’ve been able to tease out of her. With a school like that it’s likely she comes from a very traditional family._ “That’s okay, we don’t mind which school you go to here. Why don’t you go through to the studio and warm up?” He pointed to a distant doorway. “Just through there, then the changing room for girls will be on your right.”

 

He watched her nod and walk away, posture oddly fluid for all the hesitant and rigidity in her personality, and frowned. _What did you give me this time, Dino-ya? We must have a talk soon about you sending over birds with broken wings._

He turned to the window, momentarily struck by the feeling of being watched, but saw no-one outside.

 

=========================================

 

Tae peeked around the corner to the nursery and fought a grin. “Found you,” he muttered to himself, and leant to enjoy the sight. Jungkookie was stretched out on the flat of his back on the ground with Soomi braced against his chest. Both of them were fast asleep, and Soomi moved gently up and down as Jungkookie’s chest moved with deep breathing. Looking to the side, he smiled at his mother who came wandering up, pressing his cheek to the hand she placed on his taller shoulder. “When your sister steals your man,” he muttered. “He must have been exhausted from that sparring session earlier.”

 

“It’s easy to forget that he’s so young,” she agreed. “He’s picking up on court protocol nicely, and Hoseok says that he’s an apt student. Tae-ah… I don’t think I ever said this to you before, but well done choosing that one. He’s a good young man. He’ll make a fine consort in the future.”

 

Tae’s gaze slipped back to Jungkook. “It depends on him,” he said softly as he straightened. “Only on him. I’ll put them both into bed, _Eomeoni_ , if you’ll arrange for the guards?”

 

His mother nodded and watched as he knelt and shuffled the two sleeping forms into his arms, standing easily despite Jungkook’s muscular weight. From there it was only a short trip down the hall to his suite, and he slipped the both of them underneath the blankets before going to take a shower.

 

=================================================

 

Climbing back to the land of consciousness late night was a slow journey filled with odd shadows, but Hansol couldn’t complain about waking up. It felt as if it had been ages since he had been awake despite today’s schedule, so much so that he ached in every joint from sleeping too much. He wasn’t on the couch, but on one of the bunk beds – the mattress was better anyway, and the others were around him.

 

One of the guys had his head tucked in oddly against him, and the leg thrown over his could have belonged to any of the smaller members – probably Chan, given that it was small but still weighty with muscle. There was no mistaking the hand in his for anyone but Seungkwan’s though – he had held it way too many times not to know it by feel. A man’s hand but delicate, with the softest way of touching people…

 

Although his body kind of felt like shit, his mind had a lot of clarity behind it, except when he tried to think of something recent. The last he could remember was something happening at the wedding, and then nothing until waking up this morning. Grimacing, he crawled out from the bundle of bodies and blankets, scooted over the edge and made his way to the bathroom. Switching the light on, he grimaced at the puffy look of his face and used the toilet, reaching out with one arm to switch the shower on.

 

There was no fucking way he’d miss the opportunity to shower alone, even if it was on the wrong side of three in the morning. It would do to wash the nightmare about explosions out of his mind, calm him down.

 

It turned into the most blissful ten minutes, and he wandered outside with a towel wrapped around his waist, ambling into the room where they kept all their clothes. The hoodie and pants passed the sniff test, and he stole some of Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s clean socks. He had just about made his way out when he bumped into someone, and blinked down at a teary-eyed Seungkwan. “Hey,” he got out, ignoring the way his heart thumped. “What’s wrong?”

 

Seungkwan shook his head and stepped closer to wrap his arms around Hansol’s waist, hands gripping the back of the hoodie fearfully. “Woke up and you weren’t there,” he muttered. “Sorry. I just panicked. How are you feeling?”

 

Hansol did his best not to grunt with the force of the arms around his waist. “Get away,” he teased, draping his wet towel over Seungkwan’s head. “I just showered, you’re going to make me all sweaty again. I’m fine, _hyung_. Little bit sore, I think Soonyoung- _hyung_ is trying to kill us.”

 

Oddly enough, Seungkwan clung for another moment before he let go, tugging the towel off and wrinkled his nose. “Gross. Are you coming back to bed?”

 

“No, I feel as if I’ve slept enough for a century.”

 

Seungkwan’s hand thumped his chest gently. “Okay. I’m going back though, ok?”

 

“Yeah, ok.” On a whim, he reached out to pull Seungkwan into a one-armed hug, a brief press of hard bodies and a hand on the back of his skull. “No more nightmares, okay?” Embarrassed, he let go and wandered back to the bathroom, purposefully not looking at his friend’s dumbstruck expression.

 

=================================================

 

The girl perched on top of the tall fence protecting the back of the building, balancing easily on the inch-thin wood. It was cold and the weather was fierce, but a raincoat protected her well enough and her nights in the Krapow district had taken away her ability to feel things. A lot of things, really. Right now, body conditioned not to tremble, she had her eyes half-closed and listened to the rain pelting down all around her.

 

She heard the form moving through the rain before she saw it. A tall figure, overly packed with muscle like a body-builder, moved slowly towards the back of the building she protected. There was something of a trained lope to him. Seconds later, another man joined him, and she tilted her head slightly towards their conversation.

 

“…are you sure this is the building?” one asked with a thick Cantonese accent. “I didn’t spend all that money on the wrong building.”

 

“This is it,” his shorter companion stressed. “I wouldn’t cross the _Yùlóng_ , especially not when you paid me generously. I don’t understand why you want them though, they’re just a bunch of singing kids…”

 

“It’s not for you to understand,” the first said harshly. “If you know what’s good for you, leave and forget that you saw me.”

 

The second didn’t need an invitation. He turned and ran, sneakers squelching over puddles and pavement alike. The first, idling closer, cast a glance around that missed her totally before he knelt at the base of the building, working there. Curious, she drifted down gently as thistledown until she leant behind him, sharp eyes easily seeing the plastic-covered package he pressed into what looked like the gas main.

 

She didn’t bother speaking to him. She had heard thugs beg all her life long, and was close enough to identify the small tattoo behind his ear anyway. Instead, she slipped one of her knives out and punched down with it so that it sliced between two vertebrae. With a firm jerk, it severed the brain-stem and he slumped into true death as she held him, riding out the tremors. The rain washed over her face in lieu of any tears she might have had, and she tossed him to the side, reaching to take the explosive carefully off the gas main.

 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly to the building. “It’s okay. I’m watching. You just… you just sleep.”

 

Minutes later the rain drummed down in an empty alley as the girl carried the man off to go and dump him in the Han River. The explosives she kept. No one else would come that night, and perhaps there’d be some coffee in the morning again, brought by a boy that didn’t know a thing about nightmares.

 

=======================================

 

Jimin fought to sit up, strangled in blankets, thrashing as the nightmare faded from his mind and the back of his throat. His shirt was sticking cold and wet down the line of his back, and when he reached back and felt at the blankets, they were the same. He raised his hands to his face and touched it with trembling fingers, feeling the rain run down from his hair in slick rivulets as if he stood outside for a long time. Grimacing, he made for the shower and some clarity.

 

When he came back, Yoongi had stripped and remade the bed, switching the heater on. He didn’t say anything as Jimin climbed in and turned into his embrace, just slowly drifted a line of soothing kisses on the top of his head.

 

“There’s a proverb written in the sky,” Jimin said quietly against Yoongi’s collarbone. “ _Fēng xiàng zhuàn biàn shí, yǒu rén zhú qiáng, yǒu rén zào fēng chē_ … the storm is here.”

 

_When one door closes, another opens._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The notes section is back! Although, ehehe, it's more for me to ramble than that people want it, I suppose. 
>   2. As people might remember, our Hope runs a dance studio/impromptu shelter called Sunshine Studio, not that I think I ever gave the name of it before. 
>   3. Although most Korean names consist of two Sino-korean characters, Sora's name is different in that it is spelled using hangul, and means 'conch shell'. 
>   4. Jinmyeong Girls' High is a real school, and more information may be found [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jinmyeong_Girls%27_High_School) for the curious amongst you. I chose it because it reminded me of those schools where families have to put their child's name down the day they're born to get a place. Very posh, very classy. 
>   5. Jungkookie asleep with a kid on his chest made me go uwu. 
>   6. Verkwan feels, but neither have any idea of what they're doing. 
>   7. If anyone looks at my browsing history on how to kill someone silently they're going to think I'm some kind of homicidal madwoman. 
>   8. The proverb is '风向转变时,有人筑墙,有人造风车', and the English equivalent is something like 'When one door closes, another opens." I think if you go literally by Google Translate, it means something like 'When the wind's direction changes, some people build walls and others windmills', but I might be wrong.
> 



	17. Chapter 17

With the rhythm for Jam Jam pounding through his earphones, Dino carefully crept along the hallway and out into the kitchen, hastily shovelling on shoes and a jacket – Seungkwan- _hyung_ was such a petty person at times! – and hunted around for the ingredients for coffee. Luck struck him as he stood on tip-toes to scan the top shelves and found a leftover chocolate hiding in the back, concealed from all but the tallest individuals. A desultory sniff didn’t prove anything about its age other than the fact that it was wrapped in plastic, but at least it wasn’t the half-eaten Pringles can he was nursing under his bed.

 

So armed, he quickly got rid of the trash before he peeked to the other side where the girl usually sat. Over the past few weeks she hadn’t put on weight at all, but he had gotten her so far that she didn’t jerk away at his approach, and he was halfway glad to see her wearing one of his old sweatshirts. Here, in the shadow of the building, it was still miserably damp from the weather last night.

 

He sat down next to her, quietly handing the coffee and chocolate over, and sat watching the line of the sun slowly creep closer and closer to them.

 

“Thank you.”

 

To his surprise her voice didn’t sound as thin as usual, having a bit more steadiness. It was the first time she sounded like a _girl_ and not some kind of broken marionette only vaguely girl-shaped. He nodded awkwardly and picked at the fraying edges of one sweater sleeve. He wasn’t even sure whose it was. The size argued for Wonwoo- _hyung_.

 

“Your friend’s studio is nice.”

 

It was more than he had gotten out of her in the last few weeks altogether. “Ah, Sunshine Studio? It’s a nice place. I danced there once and I really liked it. What kind of lesson did they have?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I didn’t go in. I just… I just wanted to see it so that I knew where it was.”

 

“Why don’t you let any of the other see you?” he asked instead, tucking worries deep inside.

 

Her thin shoulders shrugged as she hunched over the steaming travel mug full of coffee. “I don’t like people,” she mumbled.

 

Chan stared at his hands, wishing he didn’t have the feeling that he was unequal to the conversation, and that it wasn’t because he was trying to make himself feel good by being decent to a poor street kid.

 

“…but you’re ok,” she said without prompting. “Kind and clean. Like… inside.” She emptied the mug in a few long gulps, seemingly uncaring about the temperature, and placed it on the steps between them.

 

“Chan-ah!” a voice came from up the alley, and Jun- _hyung_ popped his head out to look for him. “Chan… ah, there you are… is everything okay, you’re sitting there like you’re thinking deep thoughts.”

 

Chan blinked and looked to his left where the girl had been, but she wasn’t there any longer. “I… um, coming!” he called back as he stood and grabbed the empty mug. “Sorry, I was just catching my breath.”

 

=================================================

 

“Again!” Seungcheol called, and the staffer closest to the music station stared “Adore U” again.

 

Thirteen boys started dancing again, grim and with faces set. They had horsed around plenty earlier during the day, but it was getting late and everyone was tired, enough so to just want to get the job done. Despite that each of them dug deep to make it look as snappy as the first time. The _hyung_ line was slowing down a little, all except for Soonyoung, who was as sweaty as a pig but seemed to have endless energy.

 

“Stop!” One of the choreographers called out. “Jeonghan-ah, you’re late on the chorus!”

 

Jeonghan mumbled an apology and everyone reset their positions, waiting for the music to start again.

 

“Stop!” Barely two minutes later. “Mingyu-ah, late off the count!”

 

Seungcheol took one look at the members, at their tired and cranky faces, and motioned to the staff choreographer, who nodded. “Five minute break, everyone! Get some water!”

 

The group of boys broke formation and rushed the refreshments table, eyeing the boxes of fried chicken but not touching them. Not _yet_. It was a goal they set for themselves – no eating until they ran through it twice successfully. So far they’ve not managed it, and it was three in the morning. The staffers were getting fat on chicken, and if they didn’t do anything soon, they’d be left to snack on the ‘healthy’ snacks that Jiminie- _hyung_ insisted be on the table.

 

Wonwoo grabbed a bottle of water and retreated to a corner to sink down for a moment, guzzling his drink with his eyes closed. He could feel sweat trickle out of every pore, and he had long since shoved his sleeves up around his biceps. Seconds later, as someone sank down next to him, he cursed at the sudden heat. “Go away,” he mumbled, stretching out one hand to push Mingyu in the side. “Go sit your tall ass somewhere else, you’re too close.”

 

Mingyu snorted and moved perhaps two inches away, just enough to dial Wonwoo’s pout down from irritated to barely accepting. “Hey _hyung_ ,” he muttered. “Do you ever get the idea that something’s going on that you don’t know about?” he asked around a mouthful of water. “Look at everyone.”

 

Wonwoo barely managed to pick his head up. As usual, Soonyoung- _hyung_ , Seokmin-ah and Seungkwan-ah were being annoyingly loud and acting all cute to get extra snacks – god, Seokmin-ah could be annoying when he started singing for his supper. Hansol-ah and Jihoon-ah were over by a table, scribbling and writing something down on a table, likely more lyrics. China line were as tight as ever, with Minghao-ah acting irritated around Jun- _hyung_ , the real _hyung_ line were frowning at each other, and little Dino was looking out into the rain with an unhappy look on his face.

 

 _Wait_. “Jisoo- _hyung_ isn’t happy about something,” he muttered, jerking his chin in that direction. “Is he arguing with Seungcheol- _hyung_? That’s not gonna end well this time of the morning… and Jeonghan- _hyung_ is putting on his irritated look.” Another swing of water. “What are they arguing about?”

 

“Dunno,” Mingyu muttered. “But the staff close to them look kinda uncomfortable and… oh, there’s Jiminie- _hyung_ going over to talk to them…”

 

Wonwoo stared at the quartet, guzzling down the water. Seconds later, his gut feeling came true.

 

“Back to practice!” Seungcheol- _hyung_ roared loudly enough to get everyone’s attention as he pushed past Jiminie- _hyung_ without apology or explanation, causing the others’ eyes to widen a little. “Get back to your starting positions!”

 

Grunting, he shot Mingyu a warning look and hurried back. He counted it as a measure of how much he’d grown over the past few years that he was able to look as happy and carefree as the song demanded.

 

Everyone seemed to catch the heavy mood. They ran through the song twice without any issues, but with a feeling of irritation brewing thick around them, and when they finished and everyone stormed the tables for food as their manager called, Seungcheol- _hyung_ pushed past and out the door without warning anyone.

 

Elbowing Jihoon-ah away from snitching an entire container of soy sauce chicken, Wonwoo grabbed several choice pieces for himself and folded them into a napkin, moving away from the press to eat. The more he thought about the situation, the more Mingyu-ah seemed correct: something was indeed going on that they knew nothing about.

 

_Curiouser and curiouser…_

 

========================================

 

The weather outside growled like a beast as Seungcheol made for the bathroom, angry enough that tears threatened to run. On a whim, he detoured to a tiny office instead, uncaring whose it was in his desire to pull a door closed behind him. The light came on automatically, and he nearly broke the switch as he thumped the wall to get it to switch off.

 

He raked the blinds away and stared at the rain coming down for the umpteenth day in a row. It was almost a pattern by now. Lovely weather in the morning, a hot, sunny afternoon, and then by night the clouds started to roll in, just in time to make him pissed off beyond belief.

 

The door opened behind him.

 

“You had no right,” he growled thickly at the glass, knowing from the hall’s light who the reflection in the glass belonged to. “You think you can just walk up to me and start telling me what to do? I’m older than you and your leader. You don’t just get to waltz in here with your American manners and give your opinion on everything under the sun!”

 

The reflection tilted its head before Jisoo made his way into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Here,” he said with that infernally gentle voice that Seungcheol sometimes loathed. “Eat something, please.” He paused. “I came to apologise. I was wrong in correcting you like that in front of Jeonghan- _hyung_. Look, I know you’re under a lot of stress. You’ve been one of the longest trainees and you’re right, you’re older than me, and I know you just want us not to regret anything.”

 

Seungcheol turned from the window to glare at the American boy. “I’ve been at this for six years,” he got out tightly. “I was supposed to have debuted twice now. I don’t want the rest of the guys to be in my position three or four years down the line. We have this one chance, we have to make the best of it.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jisoo tried. “I didn’t mean it like that. All I said was that it was really late and some of the kids have had a bad time recently, what with all this magic stuff floating around.”

 

Seungcheol pinched his eyes shut. “I’m tired of magic stuff,” he muttered. “I am so sick and tired of yet another thing on our shoulders. I…” He broke off and blinked, and crashed into tears so fast he didn’t process the streaks of warm wetness running over his cheeks.

 

Jisoo was at his side in a second, putting a box aside before he wrapped thin arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. “This is what I meant,” he murmured quietly and kindly. “You’re over-stressed, _hyung_ , you’re carrying our troubles and yours. You can’t keep on doing that. I wasn’t trying to be mean when I suggested you should talk to someone. You _have_ to have healing time. It’s part of the reason why Jiminie- _hyung_ is here, right? To listen to us talk?”

 

“He wants to be a psychiatrist,” Seungcheol muttered, voice so thick with tears that he could barely understand himself. “I’m a man, Jisoo-ah, I should be able to handle this! Men don’t go blabbing about their problems like weaklings! My dad never had to go and talk to someone in his life!”

 

“Your dad didn’t have twelve of you looking up to him to lead them in an insanely competitive business.” Jisoo’s arms tightened around him, just a little bit cruel. “Is it less manly to get a little help when you need it, or ruin yourself and your career trying to carry an insane amount of stress? I know what it’s like. I saw them fall out by the wayside just like you did, just like Hannie did. I know we’re so close that you can practically taste it. This is the last hurdle before debut. Dial back just a little, _hyung_. Just a tad. Before you can’t stretch anymore and you break.”

 

Seungcheol sniffed and leant back, breaking Jisoo’s hold on him. “I’m sorry I implied you were an uncultured American boy,” he said after a moment. “You fit in so well normally that sometimes it’s so strange to see you look at us through this totally different viewpoint.” Another pause. “Hannie?”

 

Jisoo shrugged gently. “It’s what he wants to be called. And I’m sorry I called attention to this in the practice room. I should have said something afterwards, in private like this. I know you’re having a tough time.”

 

Grumbling, Seungcheol picked up the hem of his shirt and wiped his face dry, shrugging. “I’ll talk,” he promised gruffly. “A little bit.”

 

“Good,” Jisoo urged. “And you need to eat quickly, because I don’t think the vice-president will appreciate mouldy chicken in his office, and then we’ve got ten tired kids to herd home – luckily we can sleep in a little tomorrow before the salon visits.”

 

“Is it spicy chicken?” the eldest asked, deeply suspicious, as he pulled the box closer and looked up. Jisoo was grinning at him, and just like that everything was right in their world again.

 

====================================

 

The days trotted forward inevitably, jam-packed with last-minute business for the debut. On the last day before it, on a rare night that it didn’t rain, Seungkwan sat back in the tiny living room, wrapped in a blanket as he caught up on the homework and tasks he had missed. There would be CSATs for him in November, and he had to pass well enough to gain entrance into university – the company might drive their idols hard, but management didn’t want them not to have an education either, and some of the older _hyungdeul_  had already chosen to enter college on the company’s budget.

 

As he worked through his mathematics and English courses, he pondered. Over the past few weeks talking with Jiminie- _hyung_ had helped, even after that disaster at the wedding, and the advice Jihoon- _hyung_ had given him seemed to be working so far. Very slowly it felt as if some kind of tension in his mind was falling away, replaced instead with just the occasional touch, and a lot of companionship from his other band members that he had missed earlier in pre-debut time.

 

Things really were going better. Even these study courses weren’t as bad. Although Jiminie- _hyung_ hadn’t said anything, he got the idea that his education didn’t go well in his formative years, and it was only in the last few that he caught up, given that he was doing the same courses as Seungkwan. Some of the best memories over the past few days was of them sitting together with a small group of people, studying hard at the salon whilst their hair bleached, or listening to everyone laugh as Joshua effortlessly corrected his pronunciation.

 

His pen stilled on the maths page as the fact that it was their debut date tomorrow rang through his being. Debut. _Debut_.

 

“…oh my gosh,” he muttered to himself in English and flew up, blanket and pen flying. Rushing through the dorm, he thudded into his favourite _hyung_ ’s room like a wildebeest in the Serengeti, half-knocking on the door and half-knocking on the dorm bed’s post. “ _Hyung_!” he got out, half out of breath. “ _Hyung_!”

 

Seungcheol had an awful expression on his face as he straightened, sour and afraid and protective. “What is it? What happened? Did something go wrong?”

 

Seungkwan’s train of thought ground to a halt. His leader looked so _worried_ , as if he expected something to go wrong every part of the day. “Uh… nothing? I just thought of something.” Scooting over, he flopped down as Seungcheol sat up, blanket falling to his waist. “I… _hyung_ , can you stop putting on muscle? You make the rest of us look bad, and you haven’t even done anything!” he complained sulkily. “Put them away!”

 

His leader rolled his eyes and reached out to pull over a discarded t-shirt, putting that on. “What is going on? What did you want to speak about?”

 

Seungkwan took a deep breath. “It’s Jiminie- _hyung_!” he said dramatically. “Tomorrow is debut! He said he’d help us until the debut! That was the arrangement he made with Seungmin- _hyung_ , right?”

 

Seungcheol nodded slowly. “Right, and he has helped… right? He might as well be the team mom instead of Hannie and Jin-hyung... well, I wouldn't call him _halmeonim_ to his face, but still.”

 

“Hyuuung,” Seungkwan got out unhappily. “It’s debut tomorrow. He’s leaving us after debut. C’mon.”

 

From off to the side, Soonyoung’s head popped out from under a blanket. “What?” he asked. “But I thought he was going to stay with us. Bumzu- _hyung_ is.”

 

“ _Hyung_ , I don’t want Jiminie- _hyung_ to leave,” Seungkwan muttered. “Can’t we ask him to stay? Is he that expensive? Will it make our debt a lot worse?”

 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes and pushed him away so that he could get up. “The company isn’t paying for him to be there, so it’s not a matter of money. Come on, let’s go and discuss this with everyone. Aish, Seungkwanie, couldn’t you have come to this realisation sooner tonight?”

 

Those already asleep weren’t very happy to be woken up, but everyone clustered into the sitting room where, almost three months ago, their lives had changed. Seungkwan got a faint shudder as he thought of his grandmother visiting them, and the terrifying things that had happened since then.

 

Seungcheol got right to it. “Seungkwanie is afraid that Jiminie- _hyung_ is going to leave after debut,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t really think of it until now, we were busy enough getting ready, but it’s true. I didn’t even think of getting a gift to say thank-you. I want to know what all of you think though. It’s not cost or anything, but we’ve all been through bad patches at the company before. Seungmin- _hyung_ is already a blessing. Do we want Jiminie- _hyung_ to stay on as another manager? Or … do we even have the right to ask him? What do you think?”

 

Silence fell as Seungkwan tried to stare people into talking, into making this thing go his way.

 

Dino cleared his throat. “No one has tried to hit us badly since Jiminie- _hyung_ came, or made us do punishments like we used to, beyond that one time he didn't know about,” he said quietly, fingers straining together. “And he… um. He does listen, and what he says is good stuff.”

 

“I’ve not been as tired,” Jeonghan admitted. “I hate to say it, but the diet that he and Jin- _hyung_ helped me with is making things easier for me, as well as our meditation lessons. It’s not the same kind of thing as what Seungmin- _hyung_ does, but the two of them working together are good, and our group is large enough to qualify for two managers.”

 

“He likes my poetry,” Wonwoo said out of left field, shocking everyone by actually speaking up. “I feel like I can talk to him about it and my other problems. A single conversation with a wise man is better than studying books for ten years… or something like that.”

 

Minghao cleared his throat and sat forward, delicate features set with concentration. “He is… good person? More than people know. We need guidance on some matters. He and his mate have guidance. They have…” He broke off and glanced towards Jun, rapping out a quick sentence in Mandarin questioningly.

 

“It’s a Confucian quote,” Jun said. “Shortly, by three methods we may learn wisdom: first by reflection, second by imitation and third by experience.” He slowly sounded out the word to Minghao, who nodded at it.

 

“They have much… ex-perience,” he agreed. “They learn from their good elders, and we learn from them. It is right that way. If he wants to. Family can be chosen too.”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes wanted to start watering, but he bit his lip to keep his tears in. Almost everyone in the circle had something good to say, which made him want to bounce on his hands. Even those that didn’t interact much with him, like Mingyu- _hyung_ , found something good to say about the partnership, or Jin- _hyung_ , or even the way they felt Tae- _hyung_ and Kookie- _hyung_ encouraged them.

 

Hansol, who had been looking down at his fingers most of the time, only looked up when he poked him in the kneecap. “Ah… Jiminie- _hyung_ is very soft sometimes, and suffers with us through our problems, but he is constant too, the kind of older brother that I really want to look up to, like my _hyung_ s here. I think we would be poorer if we didn’t ask him to stay.” His hands nervously played with his phone. “Besides…” A nervous shrug followed. “I’m okay with it.”

 

Seungkwan stared sideways at Vernon as the rest of the circle agreed to ask him on the morrow, and cornered him soon afterwards, curious. “Besides what?” he demanded. “I could see something else in there.”

 

Vernon looked down at him from the short distance in their heights, and popped his earphones back in, untangling the cord smoothly. “Besides,” he said softly. “He makes you happy, and that’s all I really want. Night, _hyung_. Remember to hang out the dreamcatcher, okay?” He turned to wander back to his bedroom, flicking on a song, and left Seungkwan standing in the corner of the room staring wide-eyed at his retreating back.

 

Across the room, unseen by him, Jihoon stopped watching them and turned away with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So we're almost back to the debut date and the end of The Three Kingdoms, sorry it's taken this long. 
>   2. I wonder if other people have that problem as well, where you're so tired mentally but your body just goes 'No! Nyet!' or something like that. 
>   3. Just as a reminder since that's in the notes that vanished, in this fic Bumzu is not his own person, but a person made up by Yoongi to explain his presence at the company on a long-term basis. 
> 



	18. Chapter 18

The debut had passed, they had seen their parents for the second time, and the crowds had gone wild at the hour-long event. As Jiminie-hyung had joked, Tae-hyung and Jungkook-hyung had been right there with the girls, cheering and waving a poster with their names on, and had garnered more than one heart themselves as the fangirls streamed past and accidentally saw a shot of Tae’s face without the mask on. Now, out of the chaotic backstage area, with their rings firmly on their fingers and two days with their family in front of them, the boys were dazed and wandering around aimlessly, unsure of what to do.

 

Seungkwan, who had cried his mother’s lovely blouse wet when he saw her standing there with his ring the first time, was scarcely better off this time, and felt her smile more than saw it when Jiminie-hyung stepped up to them.

 

“Jwa- _eomeonim_ ,” Jiminie-hyung murmured, bending down a little for the fierce hug she gave. “I missed you a lot, and your cooking. How are things with the farm and the shop?”

 

“Going well since the last time you came to lay a blessing down for us,” his mother said, shocking him a little. “And what is this, you are getting just as thin as my son, don’t they feed you around here?” She pinched his waist a little, then his cheeks. “How are things with you now, Jimin-ah? Last time you were, well, not in the best of places.”

 

It was the first time Seungkwan ever saw darkness on his hyung’s face – just a little, and it soon passed, but for a moment something had dimmed Jiminie-hyung’s sunshine.

 

“I’m doing well,” his hyung said quietly. “I found what I was looking for, but the past year has been too busy to come and make amends as I should. You’re still in Seoul for a few days? Did you get that temporary manager that I hired for you? You work way too hard, Jwa- _eomeonim_.” He smiled sideways at Seungkwan. “It’s a quality you taught your son, he works very hard here too, you know.”

 

Seungkwan blinked, then blinked again. “I feel as if I’m missing a conversation. Eomeoni?” he asked plaintively, just before something plowed into his back from behind and he nearly fell over on Sophia.

 

“Seungkwan- _oppa_!” she shouted happily. “Thank you for the flowers, _Appa_ made me a special box we could put them in so they don’t go bad, and the cake was wonderful and…” Her voice petered out as she noticed everyone else. “Um…” Swallowing nervously, she made a deep bow. “Sorry, _ahjumma, oppa_. Good day, I am Chwe Sophia, Hansol- _oppa_ ’s sister. I’m sorry I interrupted you… um… my family is going for dinner, do all of you want to come?”

 

Seungkwan’s mother looked over her son’s shoulder to the Chwe family, where Hansol was facepalming and his mother laughing, and shared a maternal smile with her. “I would love to. Jimin-ah…?”

 

Jimin shook his head. “No, I promised Tae and Kookie some drinks after this, so I can’t, but you lot go on, okay? I’ll phone you tomorrow or so for a get-together.” Waving, he set off.

 

Sophia pulled Seungkwan and his mother over to her family, and Seungkwan did his bows to them – he knew them well enough, having met them once or twice over the years of being trainees. Seungkwan’s mother fell into chatting with them in Korean and awkward English, but seemed delighted nonetheless, and Hansol’s father took Sophia by the hand to stop her from running around again, leaving the two boys to trail after their family, saying hello-and-goodbye as they passed the other band members.

 

“Appa tells me that Jin-hyung arranged the whole thing,” Hansol said quietly. “He put everyone up in the Silla for the rest of the week, and everything is on him and Namjoon-hyung. I can’t even think how much it’s costing them, but it’s a well-done-for-debut gift or something. Eomma nearly passed out when she found out how much was on the card he pressed on them for their expenses.”

 

Seungkwan blinked, hand lifting to clench on his opposite elbow. “Do I want to know?”

 

“Bit over ten million won,” Hansol said sourly.

 

Seungkwan nearly choked on his saliva, feet barely not tripping over a line in the pavement. “What?” he hissed. “For thirteen families? That’s crazy, how much money does he _have_ after that wedding? As in everyone, even the Chinese and American parents?”

 

Hansol snorted. “More than we’ll ever have, I think. Yeah. Did Sophia show you the thing she made for you?”

 

“No?”

 

“Well, then I won’t spoil it.”

 

“Haaaaaansoooooollie,” Seungkwan whined, casting a quick look at the middle schooler before eyeballing his friend.

 

“Nope. Be patient for once in your life, Boo-boo. Sit next to _Eomeon_ i at dinner, ok? She wants to test your English.”

 

Seungkwan, heart warm and lips pouting, had no other choice but to go along.

 

===========================================

 

One by one the families left, until the only one standing on the stage was Jihoon, who felt a giant burden lift off his shoulders. He had known his family had been unable to come due to work constraints, and how hard Jin-hyung had to struggle for them to accept the card nonetheless. They were doing well though, and he didn’t have that insane prickling worry about how much they had spent on him, and how they were going to pay for his education. One by one, like little pings of pressure, the muscles in his neck let go and his head lolled forward.

 

He didn’t hear footsteps until they were next to him, but when he looked Tae-hyung was standing there at his side. Jungkook-hyung was further down the side, making the camera people laugh with the jokes and silly speeches he was giving, and it felt very odd to have one part of the dynamic duo focus his attention so intently on him. “Tae-hyung,” he muttered as he started a bow, but large hands stopped him and dragged him into a tight hug.

 

“No bowing!” the Crown Prince of Bukhansan insisted before giving another squeeze, this time more than enough to pick him up off the ground. “We’re kidnapping you, you’re the only Overwatch buddy left now that the other two deserted us.” He turned his head a fraction. “Kookie, I caught him! Come on, let’s run away with our little dongsaeng!”

 

“Oh?” came Jungkook’s voice as he turned away from the edge of stage. “Yes! Come on.”

 

Jihoon, not too fond of people touching him in the first place, tried to escape but could not. He yelled for rescue when they passed Yoongi-hyung, in his own face for a moment, and that rat bastard just smirked and waved them off. Before he could blink, they were speeding through the passages at breakneck speed and invisible somehow, and the second they reached the outside Taehyung leapt high and far, carrying them to the level of the skyscrapers.

 

He thought he might get sick, but it felt _wonderful_.

 

It didn’t take them long at all to check in at Bukhansan, where he was reintroduced to the household and bustled into the suite they had once been in after the marriage disaster. It was only when Taehyung freed him to sit on a warm pillow with a box of fried chicken in front of him that it clicked in him to be hungry, but he waited them out, glaring the best he could. “What is going on?” he asked. “Why am I here?”

 

Jungkook-hyung, who was already chopsticks-deep into a box of chicken, stared at him with stuffed cheeks and innocent eyes.

 

“Jihoon-ah,” Tae-hyung murmured. “You didn’t think we’d leave you alone to go back to the dorm, did you? You can sleep and loll around in here.”

 

Jihoon took a deep breath to stay something pointed, took another deep breath and frowned, then promptly began to cough. _Something_ was alive in the air around here, something that was slithering down his spine and warming him, until even his fingers felt as if they were glowing little embers of heat. He looked from them to the food, suddenly furiously hungry, and grabbed a pair of chopsticks, wading in. It was only minutes later, when something entered his territory in search of the last bowl of rice that he let out a warning snarl and defended it with his chopsticks, then shoved it lightning-fast into his mouth.

 

The laughter that came from the other side of the table shocked him into clarity, and he looked up at the two seated there – well, rolling there apparently pissing their pants with laughter. “What?” he asked.

 

“Hells, Kookie, he’s just like you!” Tae- _hyung_ giggled, having trouble sitting up straight. “Right down to the cute baby snarl. I was right, see, I was _right_!”

 

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “I’m like a good foot taller.”

 

Prickled, Jihoon turned his gaze on the man, the very flattest he had been able to learn from Yoongi-hyung, and was pleased to see the dragon flinched back for a second before he straightened.

 

“That’s unnerving,” Jungkook- _hyung_ muttered. “It's like he's his mini-me. Anyway. How are you feeling, Jihoon-ah? Fuller?”

 

Jihoon tilted his head, considered the reason that they’d ask, and came up blank, choosing to concentrate on himself instead. He did feel fuller, not only his stomach but something he hadn’t been aware was empty. In fact, the last time he had felt this good was racing on Soonyoung-hyung’s back, where the sun could bake him into a little fritter and he had to deal with a heaven horse that just didn’t want to quit. “Fuller… yes?” he tried. “But in a direction that goes ‘bloop’.”

 

The two stared at him before they burst out into raucous laughter, which he tolerated by stealing the last of the little radishes and beer from their side of the table, along with a drunmstick that had somehow escaped his attention earlier. It was rice-coated, not quite his favourite, but any port in a storm.

 

“Jihoon-ah,” Tae- _hyung_ muttered. “That is absolutely the best explanation of it that I’ve ever heard. We, um, have some news for you.”

 

“If you’re gonna say that I’m pregnant, I’m not buying it,” he rejected lazily. “I’ve never even looked a girl in the face like that, so good luck.”

 

Jungkook sobered up a little, smiling his beautiful bunny smile. “No. You’re not pregnant, I promise. Listen, have you realised that the weather these days is a little up and down?”

 

“People have bitched enough about it,” Jihoon muttered as he polished off the drumstick. “Irritating as fuck. What’re you getting at, hyung?”

 

The two looked at each other. “You’re the one causing the weather,” Jungkook-hyung finally said. “Congrats, you’re a dragon.”

 

Jihoon, mid-swallow, spat the beer out all over the table.

 

============================================

 

Trooping after their parents to the Silla, Jun and Minghao expected little levity to come from the meeting, but were pleasantly surprised when they were prodded into one of the two suites. There was a large banner there, along with a table groaning under food, and their little siblings, who rushed them the moment the doors were closed.

 

Jun pinched his eyes shut and hugged his little brother, inhaling his powder-and-soap scent deeply. It smelled more of home than he can remember anything doing so in the last two years; maybe it was the difference in toiletries or even the water. “Sai lóu,” he muttered into his hair, scooping him up into a hug that almost creaked at his bones, and added a tickle to make him giggle. “It’s been a long time. I see you’re growing up handsome like me, eh?”

 

His brother laughed and wriggled to get free. “I’m going to be more handsome than you when we grow up, Auntie Xu says so.”

 

“It’s the truth,” Minghao’s mother teased. “Much more handsome and stronger than your brother, right?”

 

Jun grinned and shook his head, letting his brother go so that he could go and hug the rest of his family, extended and close. His father was last, as serious as always, but the hug he received was equal to the one he had given, and had an added shoulder-clap with it. “My son,” he murmured, and that was all that needed to be said. Outside the confines of court they could get away with affection.

 

Minghao, who had been undergoing his own hug-barrage from his mother and Jun’s mother and brother, fetched up at his side, bowing deeply to the two fathers. He squeaked though, when not only his father but Jun’s hugged him as well.

 

“Thank you for protecting my son,” Jun’s father muttered into his shoulder, softly enough that he’d not lose face with the others. “Thank you. I owe you a big debt, Xu Minghao.” Clearing his throat, the man let go and turned to the table. “Your mothers cooked all your favourites, we went to a Chinese restaurant here and it was trash! So much trash, not nearly spicy enough. These Koreans think they invented heat! Come on, let us eat and then we will talk of affairs.”

 

========================================

 

Hobi prided himself on his situational awareness and his fast reflexes. He could feel it when people came within arms’ reach of him, a talent that had nothing to do with being a _chollima_ and everything to do with Areum’s late general training the hell out of him. It had saved him more than once in his life, but it failed him that morning as he tried to jiggle a screaming kappa baby wrapped in an enchanted watery blanket, the bag of baby necessities, and a toy flung right in his eye, to mention nothing of the fact that he couldn’t find his keys in his pockets, no matter how much he searched.

 

He cursed, yanking his head back so that the sharp little crocodile toy didn’t land in his eye, and paid it little attention as it plinked away, rebounding once off the building and once off his chest before it clattered to the ground. He was so caught up in getting his keys out – finally located inside one side pouch of the diaper bag – that he didn’t notice the slight figure bending down to get the toy, or the suddenly fascinated look the baby propped against his shoulder gave the hand that wiggled it in the air.

 

It was only as he unlocked the door and heard the gurgle of laughter that he realised someone was behind him, someone that was doing little swoopy sounds for the baby’s benefit, and adrenaline surged through his body by reflex. He turned, perhaps faster than he should have, and saw what looked like a young girl standing there with the little crocodile toy in her hand and a bland expression on her too-thin face.

 

The baby, bereft of its amusement, started howling again.

 

The girl gave one, then two steps back, bowing slowly. It looked odd on her frame, as did the strange look in her eyes: dull brown, with sclera tinted the faint yellow of someone sick for a long, long time. The rest of her fit that bill, to the point where she almost looked like a bag of bones – one that was blinking up at him.

 

“She dropped this, _oppa_ ,” the girl said with the remnants of a voice that might have been beautiful once. Very slowly, so that he could see, she lifted it again to the baby and tucked it away between folds of the enchanted blanket, fingertips very gentle over the watery enchantment of it, and lips tucking into a small smile. Another step then, and she turned to leave.

 

“…wait!” Hobi called. The itch that ran up his spine screamed at him, as if his instincts were loathe to let her go. “Wait. Please. Could you… take the bag and just carry it inside for me, miss?” The baby clocked him again, this time with a little clawed fist, and pounded the little crocodile into his shoulder. “I’ve got to get her settled down. She’s hungry.”

 

The girl turned to look at the baby, but nodded, slinging the bag he handed her over her shoulder. Five seconds later, when she hadn’t run away yet but held her arms out for the baby instead, he passed her along and watched as too-thin arms cradled her tenderly, apparently little worried that the baby had a beak and was ugly as sin. The baby calmed down too, stopped waving the crocodile around like a weapon, and settled into the girl’s body with a grumpy set of bubbles. Little wonder really; now that he focused the girl smelled of water and faintly of river, especially with the baby crowded close.

 

He said nothing as he turned to unlock the door properly, leading his way from the outside into the bright, sunny studio, and turned to watch.

 

The girl knew enough to carry the baby inside out of the sun, pulling the watery shawl up until it was a murky green hood over the baby’s face. Her movements were gentle, gentler than he’d expect, and she didn’t let go until he showed her the bassinet, resting the baby in it and murmuring to her in an unknown dialect as the enchantment on it set it to rocking. Very neatly, very conscientiously, she set the bag down close by on the changing station in his office, then turned to nod to him, bowing once again.

 

“…thank you,” Hobi muttered, because he was at a loss for what to say measured against such silence. Looking aside at the baby’s squawk, he missed the girl leaving soundlessly, as if morning mist eaten by the sunlight.

 

=========================================

 

“The Yùlóng is up in arms,” Minghao’s dad said as they shared out the last of the sweets from the buffet table. “We found out a little more, but none of it good news.”

 

“The dead,” Jun’s mother added, “are extremely afraid.”

 

Minghao’s father nodded to her, taking his wife’s hand. “Part of the reason we’ve come is to make sure that your dormitory has adequate protection. Although none know that one of the ministers’ son is here, it will only take time before that is discovered, and their hatred for the Wen family is legendary.” His smile grew a trifle ironically mirthful. “The same with the Xu family, I hazard.”

 

Minghao watched Jun’s little brother playing on the entertainment channels of the TV in one of the bedrooms, an active little figure through an open doorway, before he tilted his head. “Has there been any news about why yet? The situation is somewhat strange here, but I wouldn’t call it critically important.”

 

Jun’s father heaved a sigh. “During the last meeting to exchange the Iron Banner, the immortals that live at the court here killed one of their generals,” he said. “That is the reason being whispered. Madam Zhang received a criminal’s burial, it was that small. Not only that, but there were factions in play at the court that made certain promises to them in lieu of assistance. The Yùlóng feel that they have been robbed on numerous levels. How many of those levels… we can’t tell. There is a not inconsiderable amount of money attached, it seems. What _is_ certain is that they have engaged Biānyuán. If they find out you are here…”

 

Minghao’s gaze travelled away from the view of the window to Jun’s father. “I swore on my fifth birthday that I would let no harm come to him,” he said quietly. “That remains truer than ever, even with one of the Kings on the playing field.” To his surprise the words were true, truer than any he had spoken in a long time. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

 

Jun frowned, tilting his head to look at Minghao, then his father. “What promise?”

 

“It was a vow between men,” his father said stolidly. “Therefore none of your business, my son.” His expression looked unhappy, as if his heart were awash in it, but his gaze was level and did not waver from Minghao.

 

Jun remained silent, knowing he would get little from his father, but did not miss the worried glance between their mothers, nor the way Minghao’s father’s fist seemed to spasm.  The little signs stayed with him for the rest of the day whilst they partied and celebrated, and it wasn’t until late that night at the dorm that he managed to corner Minghao in the bathroom. “What’s going on?” he asked, caring little that Minghao had only a towel around his waist, and that he was sopping wet from the shower. “Something happened there this afternoon. What did you promise my father?”

 

Minghao reached out stolidly to wipe the mirror clear of condensation before looking at him. With lips set into a thin line, he balanced one hip against the small cabinet and picked up his left foot. Where Jun had expected to see a smooth sole and _did_ , he did not expect to see Minghao nick his thumb carefully on a cheap razor and draw a line of blood down the length of it. An intricate tattoo flowed into being. The lines were in bright red, the red once used to write the names of the dead. He could not read the whole of it, patches kept disappearing, but the overwhelming majority of it was clear.

 

Red, yellow, black and white smeared with blood now, all the lines and sigils drawn by a master of the art of ritual calligraphy: someone had set up a life-binding on Xu Minghao’s soul, a noose so tight that he could literally not live if Jun did not, that he would die first to protect Jun’s life. If he did not, he’d be removed from the wheel of reincarnation, soul damned to the depths of hell. Oh, it would provide him power and rejuvenation, but at the cost of Minghao's own life.

 

“Who did this?” Jun asked, shaking with anger. “Who?”

 

“It’s not important,” Minghao said stolidly.

 

Jun reared back, glaring down at him. “Not important?” he yelled. “Hao-hao, it’s your life! They used to use it on condemned criminals!”

 

“I don’t care!” Minghao shouted back. “I don’t care, they can take me before…”

 

The door slammed open, revealing a shocked Jisoo. “What’s going on here?” he asked gently. “Is something wrong?”

 

Minghao shook his head and pushed past Jun, taking the opportunity to escape. “Nothing wrong, _hyung_ ,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. My second eye operation went well enough that I can suddenly see myself in the mirror, and what a shock I got. 
>   2. Jimin, knowing Seungkwan's mother of old, calls her 'Jwa-eomeonim', which is like calling her Mother Jwa, signalling that he sees her as a close acquaintance indeed. 
>   3. It's canon that the Seventeen crew saw their parents, who gave their rings back a little before their debut. This is just a second visit. 
>   4. The reason for the foul weather is revealed. Blame it on Lee Jihoon. 
>   5. 'Sai lóu' is for a younger brother in Cantonese. 
>   6. Jun's family shares his love for spicy food. 
>   7. Hobi meets a helpful girl, and is unsettled by the experience. [Kappa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kappa_\(folklore\)) are river/water demons. 
>   8. A bit more of the situation is revealed by China Line's parents. 
>   9. Biānyuán means 'edge' in Mandarin. 
>   10. Jun finds out what it cost for Minghao to follow him to Korea. Red, white and yellow are important colours here: the names of the dead were written in red previously, but it is also a colour associated with good luck. White is the colour of morning and is associated with funerals. Yellow is not only a colour associated with mourning for Chinese Buddhists, but is seen as the emperor's colour and the colour at the center of everything. Black is used to balance the white, and also represents the yin element here. The number of colours used, four, is inauspicious as well. Although this has no roots in reality, in this story's history It was used by unscrupulous officials centuries ago to help with longevity and survival. It will literally rip out one soul to give the other resources enough to survive attacks. 
>   11. It is Jisoo's fate to be caught in odd situations of honour and tradition that he, as an American boy, doesn't have the background to understand. 
> 



	19. Chapter 19

Wonwoo’s parents didn’t raise a stupid boy. The moment he stepped into the dorm on the second day he could feel the atmosphere in the dorms radiate doom and gloom. _Another fight. Jesus, when are we all just going to grow up and get over ourselves?_ Sullen, he made his way to his dorm room and nearly bounced back outside. Mingyu, likely fleeing as well, had his legs tangled around one of the dorm beds and was doing upside-down sit-ups like the muscled fool he was.

 

“Should I ask?” Wonwoo muttered as he pressed past to get to his bed, tossing his small bag down on it. “What are you even doing?”

 

“Exercising,” Mingyu returned huffily, though that was more exercise than attitude. “You think I want to sit out there in the battlefield?”

 

Wonwoo sank down on his bed and pinched his eyes shut, wishing the bad weather of the past few weeks was back to underline his unhappiness with the situation. Right now, his mood suited stormy grey clouds. “What happened?”

 

“Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao-ah,” Mingyu got out. “Some sort of fight. You should have heard them shouting at each other in the bathroom yesterday. And then this morning again, and Jisoo- _hyung_ did _not_ look happy breaking that up. So, walk?”

 

“Go and shower,” Wonwoo muttered. “I’m not walking next to a sweaty pig.”

 

It was half-beautiful to see Mingyu uncoil from the bed in a smooth movement, but it was even better when he got his feet confused on landing and fell flat on the ground, and Wonwoo turned away not to show his grin. Sometimes, schadenfreude really was the best pal anyone could have.

 

Over an hour later, iced coffees in hand, they wandered around Gangnam with caps and masks on. They weren’t anywhere near famous enough to be recognised yet, but Wonwoo felt safe in the idol’s uniform, knowing that their days of anonymity were limited. He’d no longer be able to poke into interesting little shops, or sit in bookstores and write, or… he heaved a sigh.

 

“Are you sorry we debuted, _hyung_?” Mingyu asked as he eyed a display of silver rings in the window. “You’re such a private person sometimes. It's difficult to know what you're thinking.”

 

Wonwoo snorted. “At least I’m not the visual of the group, Helen,” he muttered, weathering Mingyu’s quizzical look his way. “I’m neither sad nor sorry. If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t have applied in the first place. I just want to have my cake and eat it too.”

 

Mingyu wandered further, this time to look at a display of earrings. “You’re not Superman, to put on your glasses and achieve instant anonymity.”

 

Wonwoo remained silent, slightly unnerved by the comment. On an impulse, he steered them across the street to the waterfront just a little bit down the street, making himself at home to stare at the Han flow by. “Mingyu-ah. We’re friends, right?” _Awkward, so awkward…_

“Yes?”

 

“Oh… that’s good.” Another pause. “Are you sorry you didn’t get anything in the apparent superpowered lottery that hit our band?”

 

Mingyu slowly turned his head to look down at him. “Am I sorry to have missed out on all the cool superpowers?” he finally asked. “Not really. It would have been nice to have something, but face it, all it’s done so far is complicate their lives. You like evidence, _hyung_ , right? Being logical? Let’s see. Seungkwan-ah still has nightmares every night about something, and Hansol’s spacier than a space cabbage these days. Soonyoung- _hyung_ hovers between eating nothing and eating everything, and Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao-ah have this tension between them that’s gonna erupt in blows. Jeonghan- _hyung_ has to meditate for hours every day just to get the voices to stop.”

 

Wonwoo felt his mouth tickle into a smile. “Spacier than a space cabbage?”

 

“S’true,” Mingyu insisted. “I would have thought he’s high, but we’re all too poor for drugs. You see what I mean though? I’m happy with what I have. At least I know that I can walk away from the weirdness if I really want to.” It was his turn to pause. “And you?”

 

“I’m kind of happy I didn’t. Except perhaps invisibility. I would have loved to have that superpower.”

 

“You’d have been a villain,” Mingyu accused. “A literature thief, stealing books to read.”

 

Wonwoo’s laughter curled into the air, free and unconstrained, and a little of the heaviness of earlier dropped off his shoulders.

 

====================================

 

Jihoon returned to the dorm feeling light-headed from yesterday’s revelations. Half-afraid, and utterly confused, and with no idea what to do now. He wanted to talk to Seungcheol- _hyung_ about it, and he wanted to see Soonyoung- _hyung_ badly, if only to know that there was enough stupid jokes in the universe to lift his spirits. Instead, what he found when he wandered into the dorm was a _Situation_ , complete with an argument he only half-understood, given that it was sizzling past in Mandarin and Cantonese.

 

Lee Jihoon was not proud to say that he ran away, but that was _exactly_ what he did: he detoured around Jisoo- _hyung_ pinching the bridge of his nose, made his way into the kitchen and eyeballed poor Channie, who was hovering in the corner of the room with hands nervously cleaning their stove.

 

The stove was already pristine, but clearly their maknae wanted a reason not to go past that argument. He didn’t blame him. Instead, reaching into the fridge for one of their now-forbidden energy drinks, he yanked it out and stomped outside again, clutching it like a weapon.

 

He wasn’t quite sure where things went wrong: one moment he was stomping into the alley at the back of the apartment building snapping the can open, and in the next a man came flying at him from the shadows with a knife out. Before he knew it, he had a cut down the side of his shoulder, curving where he jerked away. The pain was so overwhelming, so intense that he yelped, high and thin. He wasn’t aware of the racket behind him, just the dreadful black knife coming at him again as the man kicked him into the lintel of the back entrance.

 

Above him, the sky crashed into thunder as he saw the next swing and he lifted his arms to protect his face…

 

…and then a girl came along out of nowhere, tore the guy off him and proceeded to kick so much ass his mind couldn’t quite process it. She moved like fucking lightning, the knives in her hands were equally as deadly as the guy’s, and she was utterly, frighteningly silent. For a long, despairing second he thought she’d be overwhelmed, but the way she moved made his mouth go dry, and all he could do was cower on the ground like a loser.

 

His mind stuttered, processing things like a series of snapshots instead of sight. One moment the guy lashed out at her. In the next, in a terribly complicated movement that he couldn’t see, she had her legs up and wound around his neck, twisting so hard he collapsed. She rode him all the way to the ground and swung down, stabbing her knives into the column of his neck. The guy died without a sound, just… collapsed, and there was so little blood he didn’t think it was real, until she slowly straightened and turned her burning eyes on him.

 

There was a long line down her leg, cut open and bleeding sluggishly, and a wound low on her belly that turned her ratty jeans a dark, visceral shade, and she wove as if she wanted to collapse.

 

…no, he realised seconds later as his brain caught up with him. She wove to and fro like a mongoose facing a snake, close enough to the edge that he was afraid she would kill him if he moved.

 

That was when she did the second thing that surprised him. She lifted her head and called for someone in some kind of dialect he was only on the edge of understanding; it sounded like Mandarin but wasn’t quite, as if it was a kind of melange of Eastern languages.

 

Minghao-ah didn’t even bother to scoot past him gently when he got to the door. Instead he leapt over him, palms bracing on the lintel, as if he was some kind of dog obstacle, a kindergartener of particularly short means. He saw long, black-clad legs land before him protectively, heard Jun inhale messily as he clambered past him.

 

He never thought he’d be grateful for his short height, but collapsed as he was it let him see perfectly between Jun’s legs. The girl was slowly stilling, though the odd black blades she had in her hands dripped blood in slow, agonisingly thick plops on the ground.

 

“We mean you no harm,” Jun said with a note in his voice he had never heard before; it was respect, and more than a little caution.

 

It took Jihoon a moment to realise that it wasn’t nervous respect as much as fear. _He’s afraid. Of a girl that has to stand on her tiptoes to be as tall as me._ He blinked slowly, saw Minghao-ah shove Jun- _hyung_ behind him as he tried to squeeze past. The last he saw of the girl was rheumy, yellowed eyes as she picked the corpse up and disappeared, leaving them with naught but a bloodstain and the man’s knife.

 

That’s when the yelling started, and his mind started spinning.

 

=========================================

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s hands clamped down tightly over the wound on Jihoon’s arm, and the vocal leader could feel tingles racing up and down the cut. The pain receded until it faded altogether, and he looked down to see the cut gone. It was only the sight of the cleaning astringent and the slight pink cast of the water that reminded him of bleeding, that and the weapon in Yoongi- _hyung_ ’s hands.

 

Seungcheol looked as if he’d erupt into a screaming fit if he let go of Jeonghan’s hand, so all in all he was happy their _hyung_ had come back as they left to get healing.

 

“It’s a ceramic knife,” Yoongi- _hyung_ finally said. “Brittle, but very sharp. A killer’s knife. The edge on it is remarkable. I should be able to trace the knife-maker. He wouldn’t have carried it in through airport security.” His too-calm, flat gaze travelled to Jun. “You said he came through the protections?”

 

Jun cleared his throat. “We were going to have my parents over to check up on them, make sure they were up to snuff, but something… came up. Clearly they were not as effective as we thought. If it wasn’t for the girl, Jihoon-ah would be dead, I’m sure of it.”

 

“A girl.” Flatly said.

 

“Yoonie,” Jiminie- _hyung_ warned.

 

“Short,” Jihoon muttered. “Very, very thin. She looked like a tramp, but she fought like Tae- _hyung_. She looked sick. She got cut up badly.”

 

Across the circle, Chan’s head reared up, expression suddenly concerned and face paling. “Tiny face? Looks more like a bag of bones than a girl? Her eyes are a funny colour…”

 

The group, not expecting that, turned en masse to stare at him, and he flushed with embarrassment, ducking back. “I’ve… seen her there once or twice,” he admitted. “I’ve… um…”

 

“Chan-ah,” Seungkwan said slowly and carefully. “Was she the girl you got that huge basket of food for from the palace? The one that we lost at the wedding?”

 

Chan nodded miserably, fingers twining together. “She wasn’t a sasaeng!” he finally blurted out, lips thin. “She wasn’t. She was just… she was just someone that life made sad, and I couldn’t help it, okay? I met her one day when things were very bad in the dorms and I couldn’t cope, and it helped me clear my mind. She wouldn’t have hurt us! And now she’s the one that’s hurt, and she’s who-knows-where, bleeding out in some park somewhere…”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ sighed and crossed to sit next to him. “She won’t bleed out, okay? I’ll ask Tae- _hyung_ to help us look for her. He’s got a very good nose. For the moment, tell us everything you know about her, okay?”

 

===================================

 

Jimin was only too glad that the boys had to leave early to film an afternoon show, because it gave him some time to wander around the building with Namjoon- _hyung_ and Tae-tae, who had been late anyway when he saw an array of dogs being walked down the street by a haphazard teen, and cuddling had occurred first. Now, with the both of them loping out and around the back of the apartment building, he trooped with quietly, ignoring the hum of shields around the edges of it.

 

“Quite good for mundanes,” Namjoon- _hyung_ opined as he stuck his hands into his pockets. “Chinese work, yes, from the two boys? I’ve seen the like before, back in the days Hobi- _hyung_ and I used to wander around those parts. Unfortunately they suffer from the same weakness as any shielding array.”

 

Jimin frowned. “Is it the same issue that Yoongi normally has with shields, so…none?” he asked curiously. “They _are_ mundanes. They noted that their parents wanted to come and reinforce them, but that something happened.”

 

Namjoon- _hyung_ nodded as he scanned the matrix, frowning at the energy flow that kept everything going. “Yes. It’s trying to keep me out, but I could work my way in through these if I were at all interested. Where was Jihoon-ah stabbed?”

 

“On his shoulder,” Jimin muttered. “Long cut, Yoongi- _hyung_ said something about a ceramic knife.” He fell silent as Namjoon- _hyung_ turned to look at him, smiling patiently. “…oh. Just here, at the exit,” he muttered, pointing out the spot.

 

“Interesting,” his father-figure muttered after a few more seconds. “He was stabbed outside the wards, if that spot is correct. It must have been a very exact angle, or he’d fall back into the wards through the door. Hmmm…”

 

“Jiminie,” Tae-tae called from where he hunkered next to the smear of blood. “This is the guy’s blood? Or the girl’s?”

 

Jimin grimaced. “They couldn’t tell me precisely, sorry. You can smell the difference though, right?”

 

“Oh, that's not a problem,” Tae murmured as he stood. “Normally I’d be able to smell what they had for dinner, never mind their sex, but my problem here is that this blood has no scent. It smells like dirty alley. Joonie- _hyung_ , come and smell this. It’s freaky.”

 

Blinking, Jimin looked at his best friend, then Namjoon- _hyung_ as he too came to huddle close and try to catch a scent. “What do you mean?” he asked plaintively. “How can something like blood not have a scent?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tae said grumpily. “I’ve never heard of this. But I did hear something interesting earlier from the cutie walking the puppies. There’s a vet not too far from here that had a break-in yesterday. Whoever it was made off with quite a haul in surgical supplies and sedatives. The guy said it’s not too unusual, that some druggies try it every now and then because of the medicine they keep on-premises. What made this one different is that they paid them for it. Apparently there was a stack of won sitting on the operating table that more than made up for what was taken, and for the lock forced, and the camera disabled.”

 

“A thief with principles,” Namjoon said as he straightened. “It’s true, I’m not getting a scent off this blood either. I don’t think a ritual to track them down is going to work either. The best I can do is to strengthen the wards for you, Jiminie. Come on, I’ll show you how.”

 

=======================================

 

Jihoon had dreaded the show, and he was right to do so. The band couldn’t say what they were worried about, so instead they picked on him and made him act cute for the cameras whilst Seungkwan earnestly tried to be an MC. Oh, it was successful, and they were on camera so there was nothing he could do but smile and act along. He was _glad_ when he could escape into the studio and pull the door shut behind him, sitting down in the chair that he used for composing.

 

It took him seconds to realise he was trembling and his fingers curled into his palms as he tried to keep a smooth equilibrium. He was angry, so _angry_ that he wanted to bite holes in his table.  It wasn’t just a bruised ego though heavens knew that stung as well – an actual girl had to rescue him. It was the fact that he stupidly thought they’d have more control over things after debut, and instead it was totally the opposite.

 

He was still fuming when the door opened and Soonyoung stuck his head in. “It’s safe to come out, they’re gone,” the _chollima_ said cautiously. “You don’t happen to have any guitars in here, do you?”

 

Jihoon swivelled on the chair and glared at the stupid blonde fluff-head. With the door open he could hear the downpour outside the building and knew that he had failed again. He slowly swivelled his glance to the expensive keyboard along one wall, then the series of plushies sitting on top of it. Reaching out lightning-fast, he grabbed the biggest one and threw it right at the thistle-head, fast enough that Soonyoung- _hyung_ fell back onto his ass with a yell of outrage.

 

Jihoon kept up pelting him with the soft, stuffed toys, until he rose from the plushie pile like Aphrodite from the sea – not that Aphrodite ever glared like that in any picture Wonwoo- _hyung_ had showed him.

 

“Yah!” Soonyoung- _hyung_ yelled. “I’m your _hyung_! I…don’t you dare!”

 

Jihoon, measuring the distance between them, edged his pillow out from underneath his butt and tossed that as well, catching him right in the face again. Feeling ever so slightly better, he reached out to pull the door closed.

 

When he emerged an hour later, contrite and curious about the silence, he found most of his plushies arranged and having tea with each other whilst Soonyoung held the biggest as he practiced routines in front of the mirrors. He opened his mouth to say something, but Soonyoung- _hyung_ cut him off with a sideways glance. “I ordered food just now, it’s almost here,” he said. “We can talk after you’ve eaten.”

 

He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to cry when a half-half of black bean and spicy noodles arrived, but he was definitely feeling teary-eyed when he watched his _hyung_ mix them together for him. He took the second set of chopsticks, broke them apart and set to eating.

 

“Jihoonie,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ said quietly as he watched him eat. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Tired and angry,” Jihoon muttered around a mouthful of noodles. “I don’t know. Confused. Irritated. Do we have to talk about how I feel, _hyung_?”

 

“Then, do you want to talk about how I feel?”

 

Jihoon choked on his noodles and coughed, glancing up with wide eyes before guzzling down Coke to clear his throat. “…what?” Outside, the rain simmered out into a gentle patter as his mood flicked to confusion.

 

“I’m angry too. Someone touched my Jihoonie again, and he nearly died today. I can’t keep on doing this,” Soonyoung muttered, looking down at the plushie on his lap. “I can’t keep on being just a little too late all the time, and see you get hurt like that. I…”

 

Jihoon, feeling his heart sink at the unhappy look on Soonyoung’s face, put his chopsticks down and leant over the table between them. Right there, with the rain unseen but still felt against his soul, he kissed someone for the first time in his life, and a boy at that. It felt weird and uncomfortable, especially with the table biting into his thighs, and it wasn’t really more than a peck on the corner of Soonyoung’s mouth. For all of that, it felt like kissing fire: he could feel the radiance just underneath his _hyung_ ’s skin, feel the pent-up solar energy still heating his form hours later, taste just the barest taste of sweat and chapstick.

 

It was over in a moment anyway. He fell back to his seat and ignored Soonyoung’s shocked look, digging into the noodles again. Still, it felt like he had hurled some unimaginable weight from his shoulders as his _hyung_ ’s expression changed to a surprised, embarrassed, _pleased_ one. Grinning, he enjoyed the silence for what it was, and felt some of the confusion around his feelings drift away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. I watched a few Meanie videos because I feel as if I have a specific lack of knowledge surrounding Mingyu and Wonwoo, since they're not who I normally concentrate on. I still can't make them out well, but I'm starting to feel comfortable with what's developing here character-wise. 
>   2. Thirteen boys in one dorm just seems a recipe for fights and rough-housing. 
>   3. Jun and Minghao fight #3 on this topic. The others are finally seeing more of the real dynamic between them. Not fighting per se, but two rams butting heads on occasion, no matter how sunny and cute Jun sometimes seems to be, or how ethereal Thug!hao can appear. 
>   4. If there's one thing I learnt watching Seventeen videos, it's that schadenfreude is a very Korean concept. 
>   5. When Wonwoo calls Mingyu Helen, it's a reference to the face that launched a thousand ships. ...ships? No-one? Ah, I have a stupid sense of humour. 
>   6. I want invisibility as a superpower too. I'd have a Bond villain cat and a cocktail named after me. 
>   7. This entire sequence with Jihoon was written first of the fic. It's not accidental that it was him. 
>   8. Whilst it's true that ceramic knives won't set off a metal detector, airport security has a little more finesse these days, and non-metallic objects can be identified. 
>   9. I feel that Kim Taehyung is one of those people you can distract from life with a small animal. 
>   10. In the last scene Jihoon is a pile of emotions, but who wouldn't be in his situation? I wouldn't want to talk in his situation either. Normally I either want to sleep or punch something. 
>   11. It's not quite a kiss, is it? Maybe? Partially? More like a 'this space is reserved for future development'.
> 



	20. Chapter 20

Two days passed, where the only pressure they had was being an up-and-coming boy band, and everyone sweated themselves to the bone. Sleep was a thing they barely got five hours of a night, but as Seungcheol once remarked, it felt as if it were a holiday. Nothing had happened since that aborted attack on Jihoon; whoever the man was the people that had sent him seemed to fade away for a while, leaving them to face normal pressures. The arguments between Jun and Minghao smoothed out a little when they saw the new warding.

 

No one could actually leave the dorm except for work, but they were so tired no one wanted to.

 

17 Carat did much better than anyone thought it would, peaking at number four on the Gaon charts. They got the hang of promoting an album, survived their first television appearance, and for once there was a surplus of toothpaste in the bathroom. There was talk of another album, of a whole host of variety shows, of a reality show of their own.

 

In fact, it wasn’t until the second day when they saw the concept outfits they’d have on for Inkigayo and their first fansigns that something hit the roof again, and this time it was the first stirrings of a fashion sense.

 

“This is ugly,” Minghao muttered in the changing room, for once thankfully clear of stylists and hangers-on. “I mean, the yellow kind of makes us look like chicks, which is still okay, but these are pants my grandmother would garden in. Flowered granny pants.”

 

Seungkwan, not too convinced of his own outfit, looked at his hyung with a smirk. “It’s true. You look like a granny with that sweater and those pants. They should have given you Crocs instead of those trainers, and the image would be complete, hyung.”

 

Minghao eyed him sideways, trying not to be jealous. “Where do you get off having a somewhat-normal outfit? I don’t even like this material. It feels like cheap nightgowns. Is this some kind of way to torture us? At least Channie has shorts, not this… this…”

 

“What’s going on?” Seungcheol asked as he came by, already dressed in his grey t-shirt and white shorts.

 

“See!” Minghao snarled. “You look like you’re going on a boating adventure at least, hyung! Why do I have to look like a cheap country cousin?” He plucked at the white sweatshirt and pants, both far too large for his skinny frame. “With the way it flops, I look like I’m pregnant!”

 

Seungkwan and Seungcheol shared identically horrified looks at that thought. “Just… try and bear it, ok? There isn’t much choice.” Seungcheol muttered. “And don’t complain too much, the hyungs are still on edge. Smile.” He paused, stepping a bit away to check up on the others. “And don’t become pregnant!” he called thoughtfully over his shoulder.

 

Seungkwan, front and centre to the expression of active hatred that crept over his Chinese hyung’s face, almost wet himself laughing as Minghao pouted off to Jun’s side to complain some more.

 

==============================

 

Sora looked up at the building across the street, wrinkling her nose. It was at least a little late and she was tired; if she had known extra classes would take this long she would never have agreed to make the run for Hobi-oppa. He had asked so nicely though, that she just couldn’t say no, especially with the stress of the Battle of the Bands he was arranging to boost the studio’s visibility a little. Hiking the messenger bag a little higher over her shoulder, she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to go there in her school uniform.

 

She took a deep breath and pushed the door to the well-lit practice studio open as she thought of what Hobi-oppa had done for her the past month. He had literally made her dance the angry out of her: freestyle, hip-hop, contemporary… he had even helped her hobble off the mat one class when classical music started playing out of nowhere and she had become so intensely nauseous she couldn’t move.

 

He was the one she called at oh-dark-hundred when her mother had one of her ‘informal evaluation sessions’, making her dance and sing long into the night, flaying her apart with criticism.

 

It was _right_ that she do something for him, even if that something was just delivering coffee and a stack of papers to whoever ‘Bumzu-hyung’ turned out to be.

 

It was easier to get in than she thought. She reported to the guard at the desk and showed her ID – apparently she was on a list – and made for the staircase up to the second floor, ambling along the line to a series of identical-looking studios. There were music posters and pinboards every so often, and the actual inner structure seemed labyrinthine.

 

Later, when she thought about it, she blamed that for her confusion, and for knocking on the wrong door.

 

She waited for the voice that called to let her in, but when she opened the door it was to four guys looking quizzically at her. They were clearly in the middle of a jamming session, if what she heard of Chris Brown fading off into the background said anything. She blinked slowly.

 

They blinked back.

 

Irritated and embarrassed, she bowed smoothly to them. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she murmured, casting a look at the scribble on her hand. “I was looking for, ah, Bumzu-oppa? I’m sorry, the studios are all pretty similar.”

 

“It’s you!” the youngest-looking one exclaimed, though his spiky hair made him seem a good few inches taller than he really was, almost as tall as her. “You’re the noona at the mall, back in Apgujeong-dong!” He scrabbled around the edge of the table, bowing like a little toy. “It’s you, right? You’re the one that danced off against Soonyoung-hyung!”

 

Three highly-interested gazes flicked her way at that, and the tips of her ears began to burn a little with embarrassment. The tallest of the three older boys, a _very_ pretty visual-looking one, nudged a boy with light brown curls in the ribs. The ‘What’s Channie talking about?’ came through loud and clear, especially in the silence that fell as the eldest of the lot stared at her. He had an extreme V-shape to his jaw, but kind eyes, and it’s with a twitch of recognition – she had brushed against him running away – that she nodded.

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said again. “Yes, I… um, if someone could show me the studio? Or just tell me the number again? The guard did, but it’s so late he couldn’t get someone to escort me.”

 

“It’s no problem,” the eldest guy said, and if his face was entirely too sharp and his eyes kind, his smile was _lovely_. “I’ll show you quickly. Get back to lyrics, guys.”

 

She bowed for the third time, getting in a little wave for the youngest of the lot making big eyes at her, and scooted out. Outside in the corridor, with only snitches of music coming, she wandered at his side and tried to think of something to say. All that wanted to come out was her bitchy side, so she zipped her lips firmly.

 

“I’m Seungcheol,” he said at length. “Choi Seungcheol. I’m a 00-liner.”

 

“Choi Sora,” she responded. “02. It’s nice to meet you, Seungcheol-ssi.”

 

“Why did you run away at the mall?”

 

The question didn’t shock her, but it brought such a lot of baggage with it that she didn’t know how to answer either, and was still on the verge of trying to figure out what to say when the most beautiful men she had seen in a long time came across them.

 

“Choi Seungcheol,” the one with the long hair said repressively. “How dare you talk to someone prettier than I am?!”

 

Sora blinked, had to chew on the inside of her cheek not to snipe back, and cleared her throat, settling for another bow. At least in the area of courtesy she didn’t displease her mother.

 

“He’s joking,” the other boy, the one with the fine fox-faced build and the gentle smile said. “Hi, I’m Joshua. Pleased to meet you.”

 

It was almost like magic. He was so gentle, and felt so sweet against her jaded bitchy inner self that she wondered how people didn’t just jump all over him. She managed a small smile. “For what it’s worth, oppa, I still think your friend is the prettiest.” Beside her the other two were having a whispered conversation as Seungcheol tried to neck-choke the pretty guy. “Could you tell me where Bumzu-hyung is?”

 

Joshua turned immediately to point down the corridor. “Do you see that poster of Nu’est? Just two doors down from there, you can’t miss it.”

 

Taking the opportunity, she bowed in thanks again and made herself scarce.

 

================================

 

Yoongi wasn’t sure who it would be when he called for the person knocking to enter his studio, too lazy to do anything but press the unlock button. He had very definitely not expected someone that looked like a young model clad in rag-tag street gear, but he’d welcome _anyone_ if they held a cup from his favourite coffee shop, which this one did. “Hey,” he muttered. “Come on in. That for me?”

 

“Bumzu-oppa?” she asked cautiously, and breathed out with a sigh of relief when he nodded. “Here, yes, this is for you from Hobi-oppa, and these papers. He apologised for not making it himself, but the studio needed him at the last moment. It’s… um, well, he just gave me the money and told me to get the strongest thing they had on the menu. Triple-shot, no milk, and sweetener on the side.”

 

Yoongi wanted to sing a paean of praise as the girl handed it over, along with the stir-stick and the sweeteners. It was still blissfully warm in its travel mug, and he felt so good from the first sip that he decided to ignore that someone had snugged on a cardboard sleeve _over_ the mug and drawn a shaky puppy face on it along with a sticker that said ‘Arf arf, I’m hot!’. He cast an eye over the papers as he took his first few sips, decided to deal with it tomorrow, and caught her staring at the mixing station and the recording booth curiously, then back to the software he used.

 

“You interested?” he asked quietly, trying to figure out why Hobi-ah had sent this girl to him. She didn’t seem like a druggie pulling her life straight, nor one of his anxious students, and he would have dismissed her as just another girl if he didn’t catch the hastily-hidden flash of fire in her eyes. “Have you ever seen a song produced?”

 

“No, oppa,” she admitted with a guarded look on her face. “I, um, go to noraebangs with my friends sometimes, but I’ve never seen a professional studio like this. It’s a little confusing. How do you make all those different people singing come together?”

 

Yoongi pointed out a small chair close by. “Sit,” he ordered. Half a cup of coffee later he had taken her through the whole process, and given her a quick overview, and was just about to switch off the shuffle when one of their newest projects, the collaboration between Ailee and three of the Seventeen boys came up. He watched as her eyes stretched and her smile turned slightly happy, letting her at it whilst he texted Hoseok.

 

 **YG:** What is up with this girl?

 **HS:** Sora’s still there? It’s so late…

 **YG:** Don’t worry, I’ll get her a taxi home. Come on, what’s the angle?

 **HS:** The worst family life. I try to get her away from them as much as possible. Has she sung for you yet?

 **YG:** No, we’re just talking music. Can she sing?

 **HS:** Ask her to sing something for you.

 

Yoongi put his phone down and drained his cup, watching tears glimmer in the girl’s eyes. They didn’t fall and she blinked them away quickly. Her emotions felt much like the sea to him, hidden but with a deep undertow. “So what do you think of it?” he asked curiously.

 

Sora tangled her fingers together. “They sound so happy, all of them. Like singing should, you know? And it’s pretty funny, you know, like they’re saying we speak a different language. I really like Ailee-ssi’s voice. She’s so good at English too. That one song of hers from the Goblin OST is still pretty popular whenever I get to go with my friends.”

 

“Tell you what,” Yoongi said. “I can’t explain much more with already-mixed tracks, so sing something for me, okay? From anything you want, just a chorus and a hook, and I’ll show you how we mix them together. It’ll take some time for the taxi to get here anyway.”

 

It cost a _lot_ of effort to grease her into the recording booth, but she finally sat down and put the headphones on before he talked her through how to adjust the mike. The first few tries were pathetic whispers, with barely a sound coming from her, until he frowned. “Stop messing around,” he ordered repressively. “Actually open your mouth and _sing_.”

 

He had meant to get her slightly riled up and proud, but he hadn’t meant to put the unhappy line on her mouth. Despite that, she lifted her head like a fighter. “Oppa, can you put something else on? There’s this song my mother always hated… So Chan Whee’s ‘Tears’?”

 

Yoongi’s eyebrows arched, but he put it on for her. He was even more surprised seconds later when she took a deep breath and actually sung. Her voice was amazingly pure and she had gigantic projection, enough that he had to dial down the gain. Even with it like it is, he heard it through the glass. She not only sung it, she ripped the song a new asshole, and she didn’t _stop_ , belting out runs that the original artist had never put in there.

 

Without stopping, without even looking, he patted his desk down for his phone and managed to type out a message.

 

 **YG:** You shit. You absolute shit.

 **HS:** Kekekekekekeke she sang for you right

 **YG:** Where the fuck does all that even come from?

 **HS:** Ask her my work here is done.

 

The song wound to its end and he watched an upset but defiant young girl slink out of the recording booth. “What’s your name?” he asked bluntly.

 

“Choi Sora, oppa,” she got out, obviously unhappy but still keeping her chin high.

 

“Sit, Choi Sora, we’ve got some stuff to talk about.”

 

===================================

 

“Hyung,” Chan sighed as he slumped over the table to doodle on his lyrics assignment paper. “She’s so pretty. Do you think she might like younger guys?”

 

Seungcheol gritted his teeth and prayed for everything to just stop. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “She might. I don’t know.”

 

Vernon, the little shit, looked up from his assignment and kicked Chan’s chair. “What girl?” he asked curiously.

 

“There was a girl here earlier, dropping off some paperwork. Channie’s got a crush,” Seungcheol muttered. “I swear, if I see any mention of that in your lyrics, Channie, I’m gonna tell Hannie that you want to be his baby until you’re forty.”

 

“Hyung!” Chan complained. “She was so pretty though, she’d be so cute if she did some aegyo. You should have seen her, Hansol-hyung. I mean, she was a little taller than me, but such a nice body-line, and she was so polite, even when hyung stared at her like a cow…”

 

“Yah!” Seungcheol shouted. “I did not stare at her!”

 

Chan snorted. “She’s prettier than Jeonghan-hyung,” he added to Hansol. “He was in here sulking about it earlier. And she can dance really well too! If I have a crush on her, hyung here has a double-crush.”

 

Hansol grinned. “Did you get her number, Channie?” he teased. “I know the contracts say no dating, but if she’s that cute then you should at least get her number.”

 

Dino blinked, thought for a moment and deflated. “No, hyung,” he muttered. “Didn’t get the chance. Hyung had her whisked out of here before I could ask.”

 

Seungcheol bit down on his pen, half-afraid it would shatter, and prepared himself for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Our boy Minghao is known to have good taste in fashion. These flower costumes they wore during their second fansign... I'm not sure what the stylist was thinking. Here's a [closer look at the material](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b5/6e/39/b56e390c4b55412c29e2af0f6ac30c7d--kimono-baby-boy.jpg), albeit on Wonwoo. 
>   2. I have a sneaky suspicion I mixed their ages up here, even with the time skip and the fact that they were born later. Please don't kill me. 
>   3. Not gonna lie, whenever I look at Joshua my shoulders start relaxing, even though he's apparently quite a devil too. 
>   4. Apparently Chan's type is a girl that does aegyo well. Who knew. 
> 



	21. Chapter 21

The third day passed; the novelty of not being able to go outside wore off, and everyone drew a blank on what was going on. The managers were tense, the members unhappy about the restrictions and everyone walked very quietly around each other, throwing themselves into practice with more energy than ever before. If they were tired from exercising, all they wanted to do was sleep, not dream of going for walks after dinner, or late-night snack runs.

 

Yoongi was all in favour of sleep, but ironically he had had the least in the last seventy-two hours. No matter which of his contacts he reached out to, no-one knew anything – not that he was surprised. He could hear the fear in their voices, see it in their eyes. He heard it in his lover’s voice, saw it on the faces of the couple that had returned from honeymoon to face this new problem, and had to weather Chan’s hopeful look each day.

 

It wasn’t the worst period in his life, not even close, but it had a unique kind of irritation to it, and the more he sat phoning around, the more it irritated him. Finally, reaching a point where he was pretty sure he’d snarl at the next person to tell him nothing, he gave up for the morning, locked the door of his studio and disappeared out of the building, reappearing in the corridor to his little apartment. Jiminie was still at the complex explaining things to Jin, and he looked forward to a nap in the worst way.

 

It wasn’t to be.

 

The moment he reassembled his body in his living room, the smell of blood hit him. Old blood, not fresh, a scent he had enough experience with on battlefields long past. Above it the smell of disinfectant, strongly astringent. Cursing mentally, he slowly walked deeper into the apartment, and found what he was looking for in the kitchen. The room had never been the largest, nor the most used except for coffee and popcorn, but the last time he had been in it there hadn’t been a ratty old towel on the floor, nor a pathetic scrap of humanity that shivered in the grip of a fever.

 

The small girl – she more or less matched Chan’s description – lay curled into a bundle in the corner between two cabinets, with an array of knives out in front of her in easy reach. To one side, soiled bandages and assorted medical equipment, including what looked like a suture kit and tiny glass vials of medication. She had practically nothing on, just a chest wrap and panties, and lay so that it didn’t aggravate the large wound down her leg, nor the puncture in what looked like her stomach.

 

Both had a row of tiny, exactly stitches in dark thread – he would have admired her workmanship if he wasn’t so sick to his stomach.

 

They had been looking for her for three days,  _three days_ , and here she was in the last place he had thought of. In his safe space, his safe  _warded_  space.

 

His lips thinned as he wandered closer, and the sound of his feet on the tiles were enough to wake her up. She didn’t sit up, but her eyes snapped open as fast as a rattlesnake’s strike, and she had a knife in her hands before he could blink.

 

Despite that, despite shivering like a leaf with a fever, her voice was slow and soft and almost wistful. Drugged, even. “Min Yoongi.”

 

Yoongi racked his mind as he slowly hunkered down on the floor. Now that he saw her, he understood a little of Tae’s frustration. She simply wasn’t  _there_ , as if someone had erased all presence of her from his mental landscape. For all his senses could tell, his eyes were lying to him and his mind hallucinating. “Why are you here?”

 

She swallowed thickly. “Minnnn….”

 

Her voice faded out again, and her eyelids drooped. Her mouth was still moving, but nothing came out, and he had no doubt she didn’t know whether up was down, let alone who he was or the nearest hospital. Still, mindful of the fact that even a dog backed into a corner would bite, he stood and backed off all the way to the entrance into the kitchen, flicking his phone on.

 

“Namjoon-ah,” he murmured as his friend answered. “That girl we were looking for. I found her. We might have a slight issue.”

 

================================================

 

Seokmin sat back against the wall, trying to find a moment to think. There had been a recording session earlier that day before they returned to the studio for more practice. It was eleven at night now, he had barely started his assignments for the next day, and he honestly felt as if his lips would fall off if he smiled any more. Grimacing, aware that he was one of the mood makers of the group and that if he had a bad mood it would spread, he pulled out his phone and opened one of his favourite video feeds.

 

He wasn’t sure how he had happened upon it in the first place, but just looking at the tiny kittens restored his mood. He couldn’t understand all the English on the feed, but clearly it was some kind of cattery or a vet’s place. Two of his favourites were playing with what looked like a ball of some sort, and he felt his heart melt just a little.

 

They were so  _tiny_  and bouncy and cute that his mind drifted for a while, making up adventures for them. It felt freeing to his soul, almost like goofing off with his bandmates did, and before he realised it, he was smiling again. He was still smiling when he switched over to the group chat to look at the messages that he missed. Hansol-ah was complaining about being hungry before recording, and Mingyu-ah had thrown him to the delivery wolves quickly, not being in the mood to cook. Chan and most of the _hyung_ line were on their leader’s case about a girl of some sort.

 

He took a deep breath and slipped into the conversation with a joke one of the staffers told him earlier in the day, and paused to think.

 

_Seungkwanie is busy still, so I’ll say it this time~~~_

_We are all working very hard for promotion and we are all tired, but we are doing so well!! Times have been difficult but our album is doing well on the charts and we have amazing fans! We can do this! I believe in us! Fighting!!!_

Moments passed before the agreements started streaming in, and he was still looking down at them when Seungcheol found him and hugged him halfway into a stupor. Like bubbles inside his veins, he felt the love that the group had between the members and managed to beam his happy grin at his leader. It didn’t feel emasculating at all, strangely, to sit together and watch the kitten feed with him as they let the silence heal their souls for a little while.

 

==============================================

 

 

Seungkwan stared out of the window of the van they were in, looking at the gorgeous weather outside. He felt half-mellow, half-asleep. If they didn’t get there soon, he’d fall asleep, even if it meant slumping down a little and potentially messing up his makeup. Two rows in front of him Jihoon- _hyung_ was doing just that, arms tucked across his chest and blonde hair a fluffy aureole around his head.

 

He reached for the bottle of water tucked between himself and Mingyu- _hyung_ , caught Hansol giving him a grin and winked lazily at him, turning to look at the passing trees.

 

Things had been quiet in the dorm for the past few months, barring their youngest sometimes looking like a thundercloud. Though they were allowed out again, he sometimes caught the sensation that people were watching, people not quite _there_ , and learnt to live with the feeling. He wouldn’t let anything interrupt his mellow today, not when they were going to catch a train…ride…

 

Memory sparked of a movie he had caught a glimpse of when he was young, about a train going to Busan, and he slipped his phone out of his pocket to look it up. His eyes rounded as he caught the reference, and he hastily slipped it back into his pocket in case someone should see and ask for an explanation. Avoiding all thoughts of zombies, he had just settled in again when his pocket buzzed with a message.

 

Frowning, he slipped it out, and wanted to click his tongue.

 

Hansol’s picture popped up on their private chat. It was the ugliest, meme-iest one he had been able to find, but it made him smile every time he saw it.

 

_Sit next to me on the train if they allow it?_

 

He wanted to click his tongue again, but this time from fondness. Their relationship had changed in the past few weeks; Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s advice had given them back some ease in it, and whilst he still had nightmares from what happened to Hansol, they were no longer as frequent. They didn’t really need to speak so much either; beyond the loud teasing and the aggravated hugging he sometimes tortured him with, their relationship was healing just fine, and a text like this proved it.

 

_Are you actually going to talk to me if you do so, or listen to music the whole time, Hotline Bling?_

_Wow, you listen to a song seventeen thousand times and everyone teases you about it._

Seungkwan stifled a giggle, biting down on his lower lip. _Okay, sure, I’ll sit next to you._ He paused, listening to Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s long litany of why Daegu was better than Busan, half an ear on the satoori competition starting up, before he looked down at his phone again. _Are we sharing rooms tonight?_

 

It was something that they had done a lot in their pre-debut days but not recently, and he worried. Was he pushing too much? Was it the stupid bond in his mind that made him want to ask?

 

The phone buzzed in his hand and woke him from his reverie. _Look up._

 

He looked up, right into Hansol’s stupidly handsome grin and covert thumbs-up, and felt warmth washing through his chest. This time he needed the water to wash down the blush.

 

======================================

 

Seoul station was huge, and Seungmin- _hyung_ hovered behind them like an anxious father over a lot of vulnerable chicks. Seungkwan paid little attention, but looked at the views instead, eyeing the interior architecture. The guys were filming a travel-cam up ahead, and he took advantage to pop in on that, but sank back in his tracks to his Chinese _hyung_ s as they trundled to the Korail ticket machines.

 

Minghao- _hyung_ reached out to drape an arm around his shoulders for a moment before pointing out the way the skylight arched. “Worried?” he asked quietly, looking at Jun- _hyung_ ’s tall back for a moment.

 

“Too many people that I can feel but can’t see,” Seungkwan muttered back, stretching his steps a little. “I get the feeling that people are watching us, but… you know, not maliciously? I’ve been feeling it a lot in the past few days.”

 

“They have the crow-people watching us,” Minghao muttered. “The Japanese ones? Invisible, but they make good guards. We won’t see them unless we want to see them. Our _hyung_ s are still worried about… huh? Oh, they’re playing a game up there for snack money, Seungkwan-ah, let’s hurry up!”

 

For once Jisoo- _hyung_ didn’t dominate the rock-paper-scissors, and the managers with them split them into their units to go and get train snacks. When Jihoon- _hyung_ nudged him in the back, he glanced over in the direction he pointed in and saw the performance team the next stall over, pulling ridiculously cute faces for some more money. “We’re not going to lose to those flexible bastards,” his tiny _hyung_ muttered grimly. “Seokmin-ah, get your aegyo ready. Seungkwanie, if you bitch about it and cause us to lose to them, I’m gonna triple your homework.”

 

Between his older _hyung_ s flirting outrageously with the poor lady behind the counter, and their triple-pronged attack on the manager with their group, they walked away with a pile of stuff, and Jihoon- _hyung_ gloated silently all the way to the train.

 

Seconds after he found their seats, Hansol’s lanky body slipped in next to him, bringing a whirl of snack packets and Hansol-smell. “No Hotline Bling today, I promise,” he said as he added to the stash of packets growing between them. “What’s this ridiculous haul?”

 

“Jihoon- _hyung_ was getting us back for the interviews where we force him to do aegyo,” Seungkwan said sourly. “I felt sorry for the poor sales lady.” Closing his eyes, he turned to settle his head on Hansol’s shoulder as the train started moving, and closed his eyes with determination. Somehow, being that close felt so sweet, and he gave in to the sensation for just a moment.

 

Hansol sighed as Seungkwan’s breathing evened out into true sleep in five seconds flat, smile rueful.

 

=====================================

 

Jihoon woke up from the trip with Soonyoung’s jacket thrown over him and the train fifteen minutes out of Busan. He blinked slowly to clear his vision, mumbled something and half-heartedly reached for his barley tea. A couple of swigs woke him up enough to eyeball the situation in the train. Jeonghan and Jisoo were sitting with their heads together, likely plotting to torture their leader somehow, Soonyoung was playing with the rest of BooSeokSoon, and all the other members were either sleeping or chatting idly. It gave him a brief moment to start collecting the trash, passing the bag along before he sank down next to Seungmin- _hyung_ , who paused his work on his laptop.

 

“Did the kids bring you something to eat, _hyung_?” he asked quietly. “And the rest of the staff?”

 

Seungmin- _hyung_ gave him a skewed smile. “With how many snacks and drinks they pried out of those poor shopkeepers, we had a very good time, thanks.” He lifted a hand to smooth Jihoon’s hair down. “It’s good of you kids to think of us. We do have a staff budget though, and there’s that big lunch before you guys get to the fansign tonight.”

 

Jihoon snickered. “Better prepare your card, _hyung_.” He sobered a little. “Did… ah, did Jiminie- _hyung_ speak to you about the, um, quick side-trip?” he asked, voice dropping a little. “It won’t be long, just an hour or so tonight. Just Soonyoung- _hyung_ and myself.”

 

Seungmin- _hyung_ nodded. “Something to do with, ah, Jungkook-ah’s family?” he asked delicately. “He spoke to me about it, yes. As long as you don’t swing in tomorrow morning drunk as a skunk, take your time.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jihoon protested. “I’m a Busan man. I can drink anyone under the table… even you.”

 

“Ohohoho,” Seungmin- _hyung_ muttered, pulling up his spreadsheet again. “We’ll see in a couple of years. Thanks for checking up on us, Jihoon-ah. Go and corral the trio for me, okay? I’m sure the passengers would appreciate the merits of candy not being serenaded… no matter how pretty it is.”

 

Jihoon blinked and looked over his shoulder. In the bare few minutes he had not been paying attention, Jeonghan- _hyung_ had migrated to charm a couple of ahjumma and was looking at pictures of their grandkids, it looked like, BooSeokSoon was indeed softly singing about the merits of candy, and Jisoo sat next to Dino now, providing a shoulder for the last bit of the kid’s nap. From the stressed look on his face, he needed it.

 

_Seungmin- must have a sixth sense by now when it comes to the shit we pull._

 

“Gotcha, _hyung_. We’ll chat at the, um, house?”

 

On hearing that the band was going to Busan, Jungkook- _hyung_ had offered accommodation with his family, and had his mother enter the battle as well, who went for the big guns, speaking about cost and home much room they had and a million and one reasons why. The managers, being only too aware how much thirteen teenaged boys could demolish, had said yes, which not only saved the band a lot of debt but saved them from having to pay for dinner. They even had a stretch of private beach to film on – the Jeon clan had agreed to stay in their human forms for the duration of the video process.

 

“I’ll see you there, Jihoon-ah.”

 

=============================================

 

Thirteen very full boys traipsed from the dockside restaurant they had eaten fresh seafood at, pace slow as they rubbed their stomachs and groaned theatrically. Once inside the vans, the staff took advantage of the silence to get them to the fansign a little early. Too full and too happy from the fresh food to feel surly, the boys rocked the fansign, signing and singing and hi-touching, telling jokes about each other and wowing the fans when they spent half an hour extra with them. With the sheer amount of presents they got, the rent truck was quite full, and happiness reigned the land – well, almost.

 

Seungkwan slumped against the window just in front of the last row, turning his face in the direction of Jeju-do as they made for Busandaegyo bridge. He hadn’t been back to these parts since he woke up, so to speak, and he was curious as to what the warded area on the island would look like. He was still wondering when a powerful motorbike pulled up next to the van, easily keeping pace in the late afternoon traffic.

 

_Oh my gosh… that looks so free…_

 

As if the biker heard him, the featureless black helmet turned his way and tilted ever so slightly. He got the idea that the person inside was grinning at him. Seconds later, one thumb lifted into the air.

 

“ _Hyung_!” he called out, patting the seat in front of him where Seungcheol was sitting. “Jihoon- _hyung_ , look out the window! Look at the bike there!”

 

Down the length of the van heads snapped that way, and Hansol almost climbed over him to see the bike.  Jihoon nearly climbed on his seat to get a better view, uncaring that he lay almost full-length over Wonwoo- _hyung_ to do so. Outside, the rider lifted their thumb again and leant a little deeper into the bike. Just as they snapped pictures, it was like the bike breathed and pulled out from their shadow in a streak of pearl red and carbon black.

 

“Got it!” Jun- _hyung_ declared from the front. “Managed to get a picture. Wonwoo-ah, help me look this up…”

 

Seungkwan sank down on his seat and sighed with pure enjoyment. “I’m too scared of bikes, but they’re so pretty,” he got out happily. “That guy must’ve been very happy and free.”

 

“Girl,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ teasingly corrected. “That was definitely a girl. I don’t know guys with hips like the ones on that bike, unless we count you and Jiminie- _hyung_ , Seungkwanie.”

 

Seungkwan’s ears flamed, uncertain whether that was a compliment or not.

 

“The closest I can get is that it’s a Hayabusa, sorry,” Wonwoo called to Jun. “Custom colours, but I _think_ it’s the turbocharged model they launched this year.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Dino announced from behind as he hugged Seungkwan’s shoulders, half-leaning over the seat to do so. “You look hot, _hyung_. You have a great butt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. For what happens to the girl, at least in part, please see the relevant chapter in the Side Stories. I wanted to include it here, but it was only dragging the chapter slower. 
>   2. Seokmin isn't my bias, but I've touched on him so lightly so far I wanted to give him a little peek into the story. 
>   3. Kittens heal my soul. The feed that he's watching is from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68deEAd37Zs&ab_channel=KittenAcademy). 
>   4. I can see the moodmakers of the group sending messages like this out sometimes. 
>   5. The crew heads to Busan for fan stuff and filming. Luckily no zombies this time. 
>   6. Minghao is talking about the tengu, that have the ability to be invisible and are fearsome fighters. 
>   7. It's a known fact Woozi hates doing aegyo but is good at it, and Seungkwan hates seeing it but is also good at it. Sometimes I think they can charm birds into their hands. 
>   8. All the managers' and staffs' salaries and stuff comes from the boys, which makes money and idol debt a serious thing. Having a safe place to stay that a) doesn't cost them anything and b) wants to feed them is Seungmin's dream. 
>   9. I absolutely love bikes, which is why I was so in love with Call Call Call. Unfortunately the 2019 specs aren't out yet, so I made up my own version with rumours from the internet. And yes, it was a girl on the bike. 
>   10. Seungkwan does indeed have a very nice rear view. 
> 



	22. Chapter 22

Seungcheol wasn’t quite sure what he had expected of Kookie- _hyung_ ’s family, but it wasn’t parking at a CU and going in for snacks before scooting around the park entrance to what looked like a game trail. The vans parked there, with the dusk just settling, and there was an old man waiting at the closed-off gate for them. He looked as if he could possibly be on the wrong side of a hundred, but he was still straight and unbent, and he had the most luxurious moustache he had ever seen in his life. It was the kind of moustache that a Chinese martial arts master would crave. Next to him, grinning like a bunny, stood Kookie- _hyung_.

 

Uneasily aware that he was the spokesperson for the lot, Seungcheol moseyed closer and motioned the others afterwards. Stopping just short of something impolitely close, he bowed deeply to the old man, then stepped forward to accept Kookie- _hyung_ ’s handshake and shoulder-bump. “You should have told me that you were gonna be here, _hyung_ ,” he said.

 

“More fun this way,” Kookie said. “Seungcheol-ah, this is my great-grandfather, Jeon Donggeun. _Harabeoji_ , this is my _dongsaeng_ I’ve been telling you about, Choi Seungcheol. He’s alright, for all that he’s a Daegu boy.”

 

Seungcheol bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

 

The old man smirked. “None of that,” he said as he reached out to shake Seungcheol’s hand with a grip that felt as if it could splinter teak. “We’re fairly informal here. All of you, just call me grandpa, there are too few of us here at the moment to get confused.”

 

The rest of the band crowded closer, chattering and bowing and greeting, giving Seungcheol a moment to eyeball Kookie- _hyung_ balefully.

 

Getting everyone into the gate was a slower process than he thought it’d be. Most of the people went easily with merely a touch from Grandpa Jeon to get them through to the other side. Some of them were more difficult, though not the ones he thought would be: of all the people it was Minghao-ah and Channie that took the longest to grease through the wards. Grandpa Jeon didn’t bother to explain why. Instead, as everyone grabbed their overnight bags and the staff piled back into the vans with the promises to be there in the morning for filming, he led the way into the darkness, guided only by tiny sun-powered lamps.

 

He stopped the moment they were all inside the wards and out of sight, stepping into the middle of a large cleared area, huffing through his whiskers. “I’m not as fast as this lout over here, but I’ll be carrying you to the house. Hop up, it’s a confusing walk in the midst of the night.” With that, without warning there was a pale grey dragon coiling in the midst of the space, much smaller than Kookie, but hovering patiently.

 

Soonyoung stepped back to let the others get on first, then nudged Jihoon in the side. “Want to take the other way?” he asked, stretching his arms and legs. “I’ll take it slow.”

 

Jihoon considered him, grinned and handed his bag to the closest sucker, The8. “Kookie- _hyung_!” he called. “We’re going for a run!”

 

Soonyoung gave a step or two back, changed and spread his wings in a halo of flame, generating a whip-crack of wind. Jihoon didn’t pay any attention to their band members yelling; instead, jumping up much more easily than he thought he would, he settled right behind the wing joints and punched on teasingly. “Go fast!” he called as Soonyoung started cantering.

 

“Go to the beach, the grills are set up there!” Jungkook- _hyung_ shouted, and Jihoon gave a small wave.

 

One moment, two, before Soonyoung jumped into the air and started running through the sky like a missile, wings curved protectively over Jihoon. In the night sky, his hooves sparked, then struck fire as he accelerated into the sky.

 

================================================

 

Dinner with the Jeons was all they had thought it would be. The house was huge and had more than enough room for them, even with the elderly members of the clan still there. Jungkook’s father, the biggest man most of them had seen, had ordered them to drop their things in the living room. Jungkook’s mother chased them all through the bathrooms to clean up, and then it was time for the trek to the beach. The way was brilliantly lit for their eyes, removing any danger from the staircase, and they were laden like pack mules with baskets and plastic chests.

 

Seungkwan stepped onto the sand with a hitched breath, quick to go and drop the provender at the grill area before he tugged his sweatshirt off, inhaling the clean sea air deeply. It was just the right time of day: there was still enough light to be dusk, but he could see the stars come out, and the entire area was almost as warm as a Jeju-do summer.

 

“You boys go swim!” Jungkook’s mother called out. “Towels in the blue basket – ah, thank you, Wonwoo-ssi, that’s the right one – and juice in the red freezer box for those that can’t drink alcohol. Get out of my hair for an hour or so, okay? Kookie, make sure they don’t get lost!”

 

“Man,” Jisoo- _hyung_ muttered as they wandered off to the side and down to the waterline. “You’ve got cool parents.”

 

Seungkwan, curious, tugged his shoes and socks off, hitched his shorts a little higher and scooted down the coastline. Something was there, calling to him… it was only when he saw the large, tramped-down circle that he recognised it as a Ganggangsullae circle, somehow preserved from last Chuseok. Here, in the magic-rich air, it had the feeling of a sacred space, and if he closed his eyes he could almost see the dancers back then, swaying and circling and dancing, singing the traditional song as dusk turned to night, then dawn.

 

He cautiously stepped into it, giggling as the sand tickled at his feet, and he cautiously went deeper, feeling the energy in it sift up into him.

 

“Boy,” an old woman’s voice said close to him, and he opened it to see a woman with white hair across the circle from him. “Perceptive boy, to feel the magic in a woman’s circle. Your name again?”

 

Nervously he bowed deeply. “Boo Seungkwan, halmeonim. I’m with the band.”

 

“And where are you from, Boo Seungkwan?”

 

“Jeju-do, halmeonim.”

 

Her eyes brightened a little at that. “Ah, those Boos. No wonder you’re feeling it. In that case, you have the right to be inside it – did you know, it was an ancestor of yours that showed us how to dance it originally?”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “No! Really? Was she… um… you know?”

 

The old woman cackled. “She was ‘you know’ indeed. I… ah, we have visitors.”

 

Seungkwan turned his head to see Hansol wandering closer, bare-feet, and hastily stepped out of the circle.

 

“Seungkwanie?” his friend questioned. “Who are you talking to?”

 

Seungkwan glanced around, bit his lip as he saw the old woman had disappeared, and shook his head. “No-one… I think. I’ll race you to the water!”

 

Their race lasted right to the edge of the sea, with Hansol splashing into it first, and Seungkwan… not splashing into it at all. He was running so fast to win he didn’t even see that his feet had struck the edge of the sea and kept on running, not until he stumbled to a halt a good two metres further in, still awkwardly balanced on top of the water.

 

“Seungkwanie…” Hansol breathed as he waded closer. “Are you… are you standing on the _moonlight_?”

 

“Huh?” Seungkwan glanced down at his feet, seeing a faint glow there, and turned to look at the moon’s reflection on the water. “Um. I think so? Come here.” He turned again, reached for Hansol’s hand and hauled him out of the water with a shrug of his shoulders, setting both of them down on the moonlit path. Very carefully, still holding his hand, he started walking further, feet tingling as they had in the circle.

 

At his side, Hansol relaxed little by little, and twisted his grip to twine their fingers together.

 

They must have walked for over a hundred metres with the path getting stronger and stronger, before Jungkook- _hyung_ appeared on the path in front of them, eyes dark and mysterious in the fading light. “No further,” he said gently. “Sorry, not tonight, not under my watch. You can stay here a little while and watch the moon rise all the way, but this is far enough out of this world.”

 

Hansol blinked. “Huh?”

 

Seungkwan clasped his hand tighter, half-aware and half-not. “Okay,” he promised. “But can I talk to Hansol alone for a bit?”

 

Jungkook- _hyung_ tilted his head, watched them for a few seconds, and nodded, disappearing into nothingness.

 

Taking a deep breath, Seungkwan fixed his eyes on the view, and felt the tug of it in his soul. He had always loved the sea, but there was something about it right now that was surreal and beautiful as it flexed silver-bright and night-dark under the moon’s gravitational pull. “I wanted to say sorry,” he said at length, blinking slowly. “All that I’ve ever done since Seollal was hurt you somehow, and I didn’t have the courage to say sorry. Even now I can’t really look at you and say it.”

 

“Hmm,” Hansol murmured in a long, drawn-out sound. “My Boo, shy?”

 

“Not shy,” he half-heartedly insisted. “Just guilty, I think. Your Boo?”

 

“For what it’s worth,” Hansol said after a long time, “You would have made the best music teacher ever.”

 

It took Seungkwan some time to understand what he meant; when he did, he paled, with all of the alternate past’s memories flashing to prominence in his mind. They burst like fireworks on a highlight reel. “Oh my god,” he got out in a strangled voice. “Please… _please_ tell me you don’t remember that.” Tears sparked in his eyes as the sudden feeling of embarrassment and loss he had been running away from spread through him.

 

Hansol tugged at his hand. “Of course I do,” he said quietly. “Not at first, but eventually. You never did give me an answer.” Gently, infinitely so, he pulled Seungkwan around into a hug.

 

Seungkwan wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. He wanted to pull away and run away, but he had promised Jungkook- _hyung_ , and he had the vague impression that if he let go now, Hansol would sink. Instead, confronted by a lifetime of feelings he hadn’t technically lived but still carried around in his mind and heart, he buried his face against Hansol’s shoulder and cried, so hard that the other boy wrapped his arms tightly around him to hold him stable.

 

Sighing, Hansol rested his temple on the crying boy’s head. “Boo,” he said seriously. “You can’t just go through life ignoring these things. I’m supposed to be the spaced-out one. Don’t take my job.”

 

“There’s so much you still don’t remember,” Seungkwan managed through his tears. “And we’re idols in this life, idols that’ve just debuted. Just because we have some sort of stupid mental bond doesn’t mean you even have to…”

 

“Tonight you’re going to tell me everything, so you can get this burden off of yourself,” Hansol interrupted. “We’ll carry it together. In the meantime, don’t think so much. It’s not that I don’t understand things are messed up. It’s just that I don’t care. You’re Boo Seungkwan from Jeju-do and that’s enough for me. We’ll figure the rest out.”

 

Seungkwan didn’t have the capacity to argue about those words. Instead, feeling regret spill out of him, he cried and cried as they grieved for a life they had lost together.

 

=======================================

 

Seungcheol watched everyone splinter off and enjoy the beach, and heaved a sigh of relief that they had come this far. He spent a few moments arranging the baskets to Kookie- _hyung_ ’s mother’s satisfaction before he grabbed a towel, shrugged off his shirt and made for the water. The first dive shocked through his body, and the salt water stung at his eyes, but he doggedly kept on swimming, and it was only minutes later that he realised someone was swimming with him. It was more the sense of someone, the feel that there was something gigantic in the water underneath him, and when he finally crawled out on a diving platform rigged deep into the water, he wasn’t surprised at all to see a strong, tanned body dragging itself up afterwards.

 

“Your kids are safe,” Jungkook said. “More worried about you. Even your play’s been off. What’s wrong?”

 

Seungcheol grimaced and flopped down on his stomach. “Are we that kind of friends, Kookie- _hyung_?” he asked, licking the salt taste of the water clean from his lips. “If you want talkative, you chose the wrong Seventeen member.”

 

Jungkook snorted. “You talk just fine when you want to. Do you want me to arm-wrestle it out of you?”

 

The offer pricked at Seungcheol’s sense of humour and he rolled over onto his stomach. The air was oddly warm still, almost as if they somehow trapped the heat of the sun here. “Not sure if you noticed, but I’m mundane. You’re a thousand year old dragon.”

 

“I’m not nearly that old! Maybe a few centuries, give or take.”

 

“I still rest my case.”

 

Jungkook frowned and sat up. “Seungcheol-ah. What’s bothering you?”

 

Seungcheol gave a sigh. “Everything. I thought I’d just have to lead some guys into being in a band, like my Nu’est _hyungs_ taught me. But now there are assassins and magical creatures and I don’t know how to cope. I don’t know how to be the leader for so many diverse situations.”

 

“You’re doing pretty well. You’ve impressed Yoongi- _hyung_ , I know, and that’s difficult.”

 

Seungcheol frowned. “ _Hyung_ … what’s the Krapow district?”

 

Jungkook’s half-smile disappeared. He stayed silent for a long time. “Have you ever watched the Black Lagoon anime?” At Seungcheol’s head-shake he shrugged. “Fair enough. There’s a city in Northern Vietnam called Cam Pha. It’s a port in the area, and north-east of an island called Cat Ba. If you go a little more north-east from there, you’ll run across tens of little islands before you hit Mong Cai. Most are uninhabited. There’s a port on one of them that’s used by smugglers a lot, and the city attached to it has a nickname: Hell’s Portal. In that city, the flesh district is called Krapow. It’s one of the few places on this earth that I wished I could raze off it. Life is very cheap there.”

 

Seungcheol felt a little sick. “But… the girl came from there?”

 

Jungkook shrugged, muscles rippling underneath the moon-touched skin. “The supernatural world lost track of the last of her kind after the purges. The Chinese were fairly thorough. There had always been rumours that a nest survived, but no one ever tracked it down. If the mother went to ground in the Krapow district, I can’t blame them. I wouldn’t be able to track someone there. I don’t think even Yoongi- _hyung_ can, and he’s the best tracker I know. In any case, we’ve been forbidden from going to look for clues.”

 

“Yoongi- _hyung_ again?”

 

“Nope. Jin- _hyung_.” Jungkook shuddered. “Sometimes he’s more like my mom than my actual mom. They text. It’s freaky.”

 

Seungcheol snorted and sat up straight. “If they’re anything like Jeonghan-ah and Jisoo-ya, I can imagine. Those two are the left and right sides of the devil.”

 

Loud laughter burst out. “Yeah look, can’t help you there.” Jungkook paused. “So what’s this about a girl?”

 

Groaning, Seungcheol thudded his head down on the platform as he collapsed backwards. “Has this travelled the whole grapevine? It’s a girl that showed up at the studio one night and everyone keeps teasing me about her. You should ask Dino more, he’s got a huge crush on her.”

 

“Pretty?”

 

Seungcheol managed to smile. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She kind of looks like Tae- _hyung_ and Jeonghan-ah had a kid.”

 

Jungkook gave him a sideways glance. “I thought your heart belonged to Jeonghan’s hair.”

 

Seungcheol flinched back straight. “What, no, are you mad? I might joke around, but Jisoo-ya will smile whilst he cuts my dick off. No. I’m straight.” He considered for a moment. “No offense.”

 

Nodding, Jungkook nudged him on the shoulder. “Look. This doesn’t happen very often. Look up at the sky.”

 

Seungcheol did, and saw what looked like a meteor shower start. One, two, suddenly more than a handful of streaked trails across the sky, running in parallel as they aimed for the horizon. It was beautifully done, and he goggled when the trails turned and seemed to come towards them. They fell low to the sea, barely skimming the waves, and before he could blink he made out what looked like a herd of thundering, galloping horses. They were all the colours of fire, from the sultry red and anthracite of banked coals, to a brilliant blue-white of the hottest flames.

 

Before them, streaking like lightning, was one slightly smaller than the rest of them, the colour of the sun’s heart on his body and reddish along the wings, but the moonlight coated him an icy blue. Just watching him made Seungcheol’s heart ache, and he had to stifle a smile.

 

“He’s fast,” Jungkook commented. “I should race him sometime. Jihoon-ah looks happy.”

 

Seungcheol’s heart melted a little. “Jihoonie’s with him?”

 

“Hm, on his back, but I’m only getting little flashes. Anyway, if they’re here it’s time we head back to the beach. Now that our cousins are here, it’ll be time to eat soon. Do you want a lift back?”

 

Seungcheol shook his head. “Nah, I’ll swim.” He stood and gave a hopping step, diving into the night-dark, salty water. Seconds later, feeling a scaled touch steering him right, he made for the beach with all his might, determined to swim his demons out.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Jisoo had never eaten so much in his _life_. Between the _chollima_ and the dragons, there seemed to be enough food for an army, complete with soju and beer for everyone over nineteen. He had stuck to sodas with the rest of the group; everyone had, knowing there was filming in the morning. Right now though, he was so full and happy with life he didn’t say a thing when Jeonghan showed up, merely spread his legs and pulled the other boy back against him. Feeling the silky brown locks against his face he could well understand Seungcheol’s fascination with it, and pulled back to start braiding it slowly.

 

It took time, what with the intricate fishtail he was coaxing into place, but it gave him time to look at the rest of the group. “Look over there,” he urged Jeonghan, tugging lightly at his hair to get him to turn his head left. “Over there.”

 

“Hmm?” Jeonghan turned to look at the maknae line, where Seungkwan was tearing out Chan’s soul by making little aeroplane noises before feeding him pieces of grilled meat. His eyes were red, _again_ , but the unhappy tilt to his pout was gone, and his mood felt brighter than it had in ages. He didn’t need to be psychic to know that something happened, and an indulgent smile curled around his mouth as he watched the boy scold Hansol in the honeyed voice he reserved for talking to him. “Do you think they talked?”

 

Jisoo traced his fingers over Jeonghan’s left ear, careful around the lovely shell of it before he flicked his earlobe.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Of course they talked,” Jisoo said, trying to salvage his braid. “Stop pulling. I wonder…” He raised his voice a little, just enough to be heard on the other side of the circle. “Coups- _hyung_ …”

 

His leader looked up with a frightened rabbit look to his eyes.

 

“Is it porn for you if someone braids Hannie’s hair?” Jisoo teased gently.

 

There was nothing gentle about the loud burst of laughter coming from Jihoon, nor the way Jun almost faceplanted in the sand from trying to laugh and eat at the same time. Jisoo, mission completed, went back to the braid, smirking slowly as everyone started to tease Seungcheol.

 

“You did that on purpose, sadist,” Jeonghan murmured, though he was still grinning himself. “Why?”

 

Completing the braid, Jisoo liberated a hair band from Jeonghan’s wrist and tied it off, then started to fluff it out with his fingers. “He had that look on his face again. He’s too much in his thoughts these days, just like he was before the debut. I don’t think it’s very healthy.”

 

Jeonghan considered the sand in front of him. “He’s having a difficult time,” he finally said. “Sometimes his thoughts are a mess. Sometimes they shout so loud that it’s all I can do to keep him out.” He took a deep breath. “He’s worried about Channie, and Jun-ah and Hao-hao. And us.” A pause developed slowly, and the grin that curled around his mouth became wider, becoming just a little malicious. “Oh my. Kookie- _hyung_ asked him if the two of us have a thing going.”

 

Jisoo’s fingers stilled. “Yourself and Seungcheol- _hyung_? Hannie, are you eavesdropping?”

 

Jeonghan laughed. “Only a little. It’s distracting me from Wonwoo thinking about the arch of Mingyu’s brows.”

 

“You’re _shitting_ me.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“What did _hyung_ tell Kookie- _hyung_?”

 

Jeonghan pulled his soda closer. “That you’d cut off his dick if he were to think of starting anything, and that he’s straight.”

 

Jisoo considered that thoughtfully before draping his arms over Jeonghan’s shoulders. Across the circle, Seokmin and Seungkwan were starting to sing together, something slow and haunting and lovely that he only barely recognised as one of HA:TFELT’s songs. They were accompanied by one of the dragons on a guitar; the ahjumma was really quite good at it. Stealing the can of soda, he took a slow sip from it before handing it back. “They sound good together.”

 

“Joshuji,” Jeonghan said after a long time quiet. “Was he right?”

 

“Was who right?” Jisoo asked artlessly. As much as he loved teasing Seuncheol, he loved teasing Hannie more. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

 

“Yah,” Jeonghan pouted, reaching to pinch the inside of one calf. “You know what I meant.”

 

Jisoo closed his eyes as he listened to their two main vocals singing, humming a complimentary line underneath his breath. “I thought you would have looked by now,” he murmured softly as the tune escaped him. “It’s not like I can keep secrets from someone that can read minds.”

 

Jeonghan twitched his shoulder as reproof, making Jisoo’s jaw wiggle. “There are limits,” he sighed. “You know that. We’ve only known each other for a year, and I’ve never wanted to presume…”

 

“I’m not gay,” Jisoo said quietly, but firmly. “I’m attracted to girls. I don’t look at the guys in our band and think… wow, Cheollie is hot.” He felt Jeonghan stiffen in his arms and held him there. “But there’s one exception, and his name is Yoon Jeonghan, so to answer your question, yes, I _would_ cut off his dick if he even thought in your direction, as I would for anyone else that did. I _am_ attracted to you. Sexually and otherwise.”

 

Jeonghan covered his face with his hands, but his ears were still red as fire at the end of that softly-voiced explanation. “Oh my god, you frank American people. How can you just say something like that? There are kids around!”

 

Jisoo muffled his smirk in Jeonghan’s shoulder and slipped his arms down to wind them around Jeonghan’s waist instead. “Hey,” he offered. “Read my mind.”

 

Jeonghan, unwisely forgetting that there wasn’t one but two devils in Seventeen, sipped at his soda and did so, choking as he dipped a toe shallowly in the pool of Gentleman Joshua’s thoughts and saw him thinking very hard about biting little kisses up the inside of one of his legs. The cola went so disastrously astray that he had to bend forward or choke for real, and he scrambled away to the light sound of Jisoo laughing.

 

======================================================

 

The house on the cliff had a large balcony built jutting directly from the cliff face out over the sea, large and sprawling enough that the dragons could feel at ease landing there. Seungkwan, watching the last of the chollima depart, felt oddly at ease there with the whispered roar of the ocean thrumming like white noise in the night. Jiminie- _hyung_ had once confessed to him that he didn’t like the sound of oceans at all, that it reminded him of some pretty bad memories, but he couldn’t imagine not being close to one.

 

He took a deep breath and stretched tall enough that his spine popped, and breathed in deeply one last time for courage before ambling back to the room he was sharing with Hansol. It was a mere flutter of curtains away, and he could hear the en-suite shower going. Pulling the glass balcony doors shut made him feel a little better about the chat to follow, but he wouldn’t say that he was looking forward to it, even as accommodating as his friend had been.

 

A tousle-headed Hansol emerged from the shower five minutes later, wrapped in a robe and ruffling his hair dry with a towel. “All yours,” he announced cheerfully.

 

Seungkwan, managing a smile, took his clothes with him and went to get clean. The bathroom smelled like soap and shampoo. He stuffed his dirty clothes into the laundry bag they carried everywhere and moseyed into the shower, turning the tap open and manoeuvring so that the spray hit his tense shoulders. If there was one powerful argument for the supernatural world, it was the apparently infinite amount of clean, hot water.

 

He followed soaking himself with a quick scrub and shampoo, and borrowed the hairdryer in the bathroom to get his dry. Pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, he gathered up everything, spread the towel out neatly to dry and turned off the light to amble outside.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected to find, but luckily Hansol was way over on the other side of the large bed, torso bare but with a pair of sweatpants on. Getting in on the other side, he stripped the light duvet from his side, slipping in underneath the blanket alone, and propped himself up against the pillows. “So,” he muttered quietly. “Talking.”

 

Hansol glanced at him, switched his music off and got into bed as well, crossing his arms behind his head.

 

“I’m not quite human anymore,” Seungkwan muttered. “You know that much, and about the… the bond. Do you remember what happened at the wedding?”

 

Hansol stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t. All I remember is that things got very confusing for a moment, and then I woke up in the bedroom with you and Jiminie- _hyung_ leaning over me.”

 

Seungkwan swallowed. “We were trapped in a place there… let’s just say that things got very bad for you. It might only have been a moment here, but it was four months there. People so often say ‘Oh, it’s all in your mind’ but it really was, and it was terrifying. It was only a week for me, but it was still terrifying. When my ancestor left me, she left a few gifts behind. You inherited one of them, Jiminie- _hyung_ says, because my own soul was too weak to carry it as well and you were stronger, and it… moved. The people in that mental, um, time, wanted you for that gift, and they treated you pretty badly.”

 

Hansol took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you know how freaky it is to hear you say these things? I know you won’t lie to me, Boo-boo, but damn. This is a lot to accept. Did they get it in the end?”

 

Seungkwan grimaced. “No. You were strong… stronger than I thought you’d be. For months you told them nothing, right until the end. We got you out, but I’ve been feeling so guilty. If you hadn’t met me, if what I was wasn’t so fucked up, you would never have gotten hurt. It’s all my fault. How do I live with the fact that I’m the reason you were treated so badly? You… you don’t deserve anything bad.”

 

“Seungkwan,” Hansol said after some time. No honorific, no diminutive, just his name. “Is this why you’ve been having nightmares for weeks now?”

 

“Sort of,” he grimaced. “I dream that you’re gone again, or I think I wake up and I don’t find you, or I really wake up and don’t find you because you’ve wandered off to write lyrics, or go to the bathroom or something normal like that. Each time it happens my heart clenches, because I think it’s all starting again, and I just can’t cope, I guess.”

 

Clicking his tongue with irritation, Hansol reached out to pat his stomach. “Come here.”

 

Blinking, Seungkwan cautiously scooted a little closer, only to be tugged until Hansol pressed against his back, wrapping one arm around him to anchor it against his stomach. The younger boy twined their fingers together, tugged a little bit more, until they were flush together, feet together and connected from torso to feet. It felt remarkably intimate, even with clothes on.

 

“I can’t promise you that I’ll always be there,” Hansol whispered against his hair. “We’re two different people. You know that, and if it wasn’t for this you’d go mad being around me all the time. I’m a ‘my pace’ kind of guy, and more often than not I hate overbearing attention. You thrive under that, you like the attention and you actively work to set the mood.”

 

Seungkwan sighed. “I don’t want you to be chained to my side. It would never work for our life! But would it be okay if we still shared sometime, or you just spend five minutes with me in the evenings or something? Just so that I can get over this. Even like you asked whether you could sit next to me on the train, that made me feel so relieved, like we were still close.”

 

“Boo,” Hansol drawled. “Not to be gross here, but I’ve literally got memories of being inside you. Trust me, close isn’t our problem.”

 

“Oh my gosh!” Seungkwan shrieked, fighting to get away. “You can’t just say things like that, I have a delicate heart! This is… this is... Hansol!” He twisted an arm back to smack him as the boy stifled a fey giggle into his neck. “Not acceptable!” Seconds later, as Hansol’s larger hand spread across his stomach slowly, rubbing idly back and forth, he had to bite his lip for his hitched breath not to sound.

 

“Hm, what was that?”

 

Seungkwan wanted to whine, but he had his pride as a man, so he smacked the hand until Hansol removed it to place it back where it had been.

 

“You don’t need to ask to spend time with me. You don’t need to ask to sit with me in the evenings. You don’t _need_ to ask to share anything with me,” Hansol said gently. “Just breathe out and be with me. We have more than enough time to decide what we want from each other, I promise. Now that I know, I’ll try to help, okay?” A delicate kiss followed, the first one Seungkwan had ever received, pressed just behind and below his ear. “Sleep.”

 

Shivering from the tickly feel of Hansol’s lips on such a sensitive patch of skin, Seungkwan did just that.

 

===============================================

 

No one had really said anything when Dino had fallen asleep against Jun, tired out from the long day and the swimming. He only really woke up enough to stumble up the stairs and stumble through the shower, then fall into bed. He had no dreams, but he woke up very early from the first glints of dawn through the curtains he had forgotten to pull shut. Energised at least as much by the fact that he didn’t have to carry the trash out and clean up as the fact that they had at least a couple of hours free before the crew showed up.

 

Jumping through the shower again, he dried his hair quickly and scooted into the main living space. Jungkook- _hyung_ ’s mother was wide awake as well, petting him on the head and handing him what looked like a blended smoothie before she chased him outside. He sipped at the smoothie as he ran down the stairs to the beach, revelling in the feeling of the wind through his still-damp hair. It took only  a few minutes to get to the pale sand, and when he wandered out towards the water’s edge he spotted what looked like Kookie- _hyung_ ’s Grandpa Jeon some distance down it, doing something with a target.

 

Curious, he wandered over and bobbed a bow as he got close enough. “Morning, _harabeonim_ ,” he greeted respectfully. It was indeed a target the old man was carrying under his arm, and he watched as he smoothed out a space for it in the wet sand.

 

The old man grinned at him. “Morning, lad. It’s good to see you so early. Did you sleep well?”

 

“I did, thank you, _harabeonim_.” Chan curiously tilted his head. “Are you going to practice archery? Can I watch?”

 

Grandpa Jeon straightened, having planted the target, and turned to lead him back some two hundred metres to a large duffel bag. “I still practice every morning. It wasn’t so long ago when you didn’t know who was coming over the next hill and had to be ready to defend your nest. Turning into a dragon and chomping heads off might be fulfilling, but a bit of a waste on mundanes, don’t you think? A bow works just as well.”

 

Chan’s cheeks puffed out as he thought about it. If dragons really lived that long and he was old, he had likely lived through a lot of nasty times in history. “I’m a mundane too,” he felt constrained to point out, just a little sulky.

 

“No, you’re not,” the old man said easily. “Come sit down here.” Pulling an unstrung _gakgung_ from the duffel and unwinding it from the silk it was wrapped with, he showed Chan how to limber it up, how to bend the limbs slowly and how to string it, all with the ease that spoke of long practice. “Being an archer isn’t a sport,” he lectured gently. “Make no mistake, it’s a weapon, and it will hurt whatever you fire at. Sure, you can use it as a flashy sport for the Olympics, and many make a good living from it, but that’s not the true spirit of it. This is an art, lad. Here, try to pull it back.”

 

Chan hesitantly took the bow and tried, and only succeeded in making his arms unhappy with him. “Um…”

 

Grandpa Jeon laughed out and long. “If you had managed, I would have been very surprised. This is what you do.”

 

Even after fifteen minutes of coaxing Dino could still not draw the bow, not because he wasn’t trying, but because its draw weight was way more than his muscles allowed. When the old man summoned one of his granddaughters’ bows, it went much better, and he was finally able to string an arrow.

 

“You’re in luck,” the old man mused. “You’re working for one of the best archers I know, your Yoongi- _hyung_.”

 

Dino blinked and fumbled his hold on the arrow. “What?” he asked. “Really? But he’s so short as well…”

 

The old man clicked his tongue. “Look at his shoulders under those hoodies he wears sometimes. Jiminie-ah is almost as good. You should ask them to help you a little. For now though… this is how you do it.”

 

An hour later, when Jungkook- _hyung_ made his way onto the beach Chan could reliably plant the arrows on the target, if only around the edges of it. His shoulders were trembling with the effort of so much work, and he gladly let the bow sink.

 

“ _Harabeoji_ ,” Jungkook- _hyung_ muttered. “He has to dance today still.”

 

Grandpa Jeon shot his great-grandson a _look_. “This from the boy who insisted on getting a few ssireum matches in last night. The lad isn’t going to grow stronger if he doesn’t practice. Now, lad… do you remember how we strung the bow? Slowly unstring it, working backwards. A good archer always takes care of his equipment.”

 

Obediently, Chan sat back down and finessed the string off the bow, doing it more with the strength in his legs than what remained in his arms. He breathed out a breath of relief when he managed it, and sat through the lesson on how to wrap everything in silk again. After that, as the two dragons chatted, he drank down the rest of the smoothie and slowly stretched, working out the kinds in his muscles and slowing down. “ _Hyung_!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m going to take a run, okay?”

 

Taking Jungkook’s wave as permission, he set off down the beach, running on the packed, somewhat-steady sand just above the tide line. Just like this, by himself, it felt almost healing to run like this, though he was panting within five seconds flat. He persevered, pushing himself all the way to the far cliff before grinding to a halt. It took a few minutes to realise that he wasn’t alone, he was that tired, but the sound of laughter

 

He looked, saw the girl sitting on the rocks near the shore and wandered over, trusting in the soles of his shoes to keep him steady on the wet rock. It was only when he turned the last corner that he saw the long, gleaming tail idly resting in the sun, shining all the colours of the fancy conch shells his mother used to collect: pink, creams, peaches and even sparkles of nacreous gold here and there, scaled and flexing as if there was a lot of strong muscle underneath it.

 

His eyes barely had time to widen before she coiled like a viper and dove at him, slamming him clear from the rocks into an unexpectedly deep trench, with green water bubbling furiously over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Just a warning in case people haven't realised by now, this is an AU. That means characterizations might be a little different than you'd like, as will pairings and the like. I really hope it doesn't put anyone off reading this. 
>   2. S.Coups' love for Jeonghan's hair is kind of canon. 
>   3. I feel at least 25% of the teasing and jokes the JiHan couple visits on poor Leader is because they want to get him to relax as well. The rest of it is because they're little devils in angel faces. 
>   4. Jeonghan is the only one that calls Joshua 'Joshuji' at times, like a special pet name. 
>   5. Sexuality is a funny thing. I quantify myself as fully straight, but if Claudia Black smiles at me I am still gonna go weak at the knees. 
>   6. Practically this whole chapter is self-indulgent teasing and fluff. 
>   7. As fluffy as I meant it to be, Seungkwan and Hansol's portion fought me until the end. It's like a character war inside my head, with them going 'Boys would never say that' and me going 'But it'd be cute!' 
>   8. If you have to ask to spend time with someone in a relationship, you're obviously not secure with said relationship. 
>   9. Little Giant Dino strikes me as a very strong, very persistent type of person. Obviously very different from golden maknae Jungkook personality-wise, but they strive equally as hard, I think. 
>   10. Dino vs. Archery. 
>   11. Dino vs. Mermaid. 
> 



	24. Chapter 24

“Grandmother!” the mermaid shouted excitedly as she hauled Chan behind her, right into what looked to be the midst of some vast underwater court. “Grandmother, I caught one of them! I caught one of the shell-thieves!”

 

Chan had been too afraid during the trip to struggle, and also a little leery because it was literally not every day a mermaid turned out to be real and hauling him in for shell-theft. She had generated some sort of bubble so that he didn’t drown, but it seemed a flimsy thing, and she had gone so fast that the cavitation from her movement had stung against him the whole way. He had also never thought what sight underwater meant, and clearly didn’t have the talent, because it was so murky he couldn’t see a thing beyond about five metres away.

 

He felt more than saw bodies swim around him, and a light hand on his shoulder, and suddenly everything changed. The water became crystal clear as the bubble disappeared, but oxygen still got to his lungs and the water still stayed out somehow, and he was warm now, not as pressed and chilled as before.

 

He could see the girl again, could see what looked like a large glowing amphitheatre, and could especially see that despite the number of males and females around, none of them wore a stitch. He dropped his gaze so fast he felt scalded, because even the ‘grandmother’ on the throne-like lounging chair looked hot. And naked. And hot. And he wasn’t designed for this!

 

“Cyrisie, what are you talking about?” the woman drawled as she floated closer with one sweep of a powerful blue tail. “Did you kidnap this poor human boy and force him down here?”

 

Chan tried not to look up, but the lady urged him to do so until he looked her in the eyes. She had lovely eyes, he saw, strangely blue-gold as if she had all the best things of the ocean in her veins. Her hair, which he thought looked grey, was silver-gilt instead.

 

“You know!” the girl said. “Like in the story of the Wave Kingdom and the Five Benevolent Sages! Humans stole our shells because they were lovely, and they didn’t realise they were our houses!”

 

Chan slowly gaped as the woman in front of him face-palmed.

 

“Cyrisie,” she reproved.  “That’s a story, and not a very accurate one either. We’re at least fifteen thousand years beyond being small enough to hide out in shells. The Wave Kingdom was _never real_. I would ask why you went close to the shore, but if this is the kind of story that your ladies are telling you, then I’ll have to have words with them.”

 

Between the girl pouting – she really did look young now that he saw her for more than a split-second – and the woman’s disapproving look, he felt oddly guilty. “U..um,” he got out, surprised when his voice worked perfectly. “I did pick one up for my mother when I was five… and it’s no problem. I mean, the, um, princess?” The girl brightened, looking chuffed with herself. “The princess didn’t hurt me, and she really was kind of fierce. I won’t do it again.”

 

The woman’s expression gentled. He had no doubt that she saw straight through that explanation, but the girl was kind of cute, like a way younger sister even if she looked like … that.

 

“That’s very generous of you,” the woman said. “Be welcome to my kingdom them, gentle one. You may call me Aria if you wish… South Korean, yes? Are you one of the dragons’ guests?”

 

Chan brightened. “Yes, _noona_! Um, _halmeoni_ , I mean? Do you know of them? They’re not far from here… well, I don’t think they are, but I’m kind of lost as to which way is north and which way the island is right now. We really did swim here faster than I’ve ever swam before.”

 

She laughed and shook her head, turning away from him. On the way to her chair she ruffled the princess’ long, waving locks. “My Cynisie is the strongest the bloodline has shown in a thousand years,” she boasted. “Even if she’s a little gullible. Thank you for not hurting her. One hears stories about surface-dwellers. I’ll call and let them know where you are.”

 

She had barely sat down – lounged? – in her chair before she stretched a hand out to spin a circle of water before her, and Chan’s eyes widened. From her hand flowed a current of magic twined into a rope which felt startlingly familiar to him, especially with the way the scales shimmered and teased at his eyes with power. The thread spun out and curved into a lovely mirror in front of her, the frame half-formed before he thought to react. “You’re a bird-maiden too?” he said wonderingly. “Wow, I didn’t know Seungkwanie- _hyung_ had family under the sea.”

 

The woman blinked and paused, looking at him searchingly. Her mouth opened, but it wasn’t words that emerged but some other language entirely. It sounded almost like whale-song to his ears, but higher and infinitely lovely, and it scraped against his ears with the meaning behind it. It pounded and pounded at him, until a warm hold cut off the impact of the words.

 

To his surprise it was a male’s arm, one that turned so that the impact of the words splashed against his shoulders and splintered. “Revered mother-in-law,” the merman murmured in the sudden silence. “I don’t think he understands. You’re making his ears bleed; clearly he doesn’t carry the bloodline.”

 

Frowning, the woman suspended what she was doing and drifted closer, tapping the large man’s shoulder to get him to move away. “Little land prince,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Is there one amongst you that you call bird-maiden? It’s been a long time since we heard of them, and longer still since we saw one.” Her touch set him straight, unscrambling his thoughts and healing the pain inside his head.

 

Chan swallowed and hung his head. He had blurted out a secret and been stung for it, and he would be damned before he introduced the woman to Seungkwanie- _hyung_ now. Slowly, miserably, he shook his head.

 

She said nothing, but drifted back to the mirror and finished her spell, letting it form fully before reaching out to touch it. “Dragon of the East, Beast of the Waters, I call upon you. I have one of your lost little lambs here, do you think you could come and fetch him? I think he wants to go home.”

 

Chan, chewing on his lip, followed little of the conversation that followed. Instead, feeling gentle fingertips underneath his chin, he looked up at the young princess, who was looking at him with a sad pensive sort of look. “I’m sorry,” she finally gabbled. “I thought the story was true. I’m sorry you got hurt.” She looked at the man drifting beside Chan, who nodded solemnly to her, and lifted her hand. Cupped in her palm lay a pearl of some sort, the largest he had ever seen, with a startlingly blue hue to it. “You can have this… _oppa_ , right? That’s how you people say it?”

 

“Yes,” Chan managed to get out. “Um. You don’t need to give me anything.”

 

“Keep it!” she said happily. “How else am I going to find you again, silly?”

 

Dumbfounded, he watched as the man took it and touched it. It changed, morphing into a slim silver cuff earring that he dropped into Chan’s palm. “There you go,” he said quietly. “A little less conspicuous, though it’s still the pearl. If you ever need help, hold this on you and get to water, and I will be there to help, out of gratitude for treating my daughter so gently.”

 

Chan swallowed and looked up to the man. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he understood that if he had hurt the girl at all, he would not have survived. As it was, he made a new friend somehow, and earned a favour not many had.

 

The memory of the woman speaking washed over him, and he winced at the thought of angering her, of angering any of them. So he remained silent whilst the girl fussed at him, used him as her own makeup doll for a while, until a massive shape floated closer to them and turned into Kookie- _hyung_. He spoke to the lady on the throne at first, their whispers quiet but fervent, and when he finally glanced Chan way he looked irritated and protective and a whole lot of things all mixed up together.

 

“I’ll ask,” he finally said before he nodded to her and floated towards Chan. Taking in the delicate cosmetics that had been slapped on the boy’s face and the frightened eyes he didn’t say anything, just held out his hand. The girl darted forward to press a kiss on Chan’s cheek, and then they stood on the shore, both dripping wet and quiet.

 

“Gods,” Jungkook- _hyung_ said after a while. “You live to see me scolded by Jiminie- _hyung_.”

 

Chan fought not to cry, swallowing instead, and raised the silver earring to pinch it high around his ear like Joshua- _hyung_ sometimes wore his. “Jiminie- _hyung_ wouldn’t scold you,” he muttered sullenly. “He might as well go around and say ‘Kookie, nugu aegi?’ and look at you with heart eyes, _hyung_. Jiminie- _hyung_ is literally the softest.”

 

Jungkook burst out into bright laughter and reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “Maybe. I have good news in any case. I wanted to tell you earlier, before you got kidnapped… your girl is awake. She finally came out of the coma. Did you want to go for a quick fly about before we get breakfast? We still have enough time.”

 

Chan brightened, heart lifting immediately. “Yes, _hyung_!” he called, punching the air. “Let’s go fast! How fast can you go? Let’s get Soonyoung- _hyung_ and have that race and beat him!”

 

“Shit, you’re such a little savage,” Jungkook approved. “No wonder I like you so much. Come on, let’s go and get the magical little pony and grind him into _dust_.”

 

===========================================

 

The filming went better than anyone had imagined, and Seungkwan put that squarely at the feet of the increased mood of the group. Everyone seemed cheerful, even Channie, and he watched the island fade from view as they approached the bridge leading to the mainland. Hansol was sleeping against his shoulder, breath tickling in his neck, and he had to fight not to giggle every so often. It felt as if there were little bubbles of excitement floating in his veins – he had never liked a ‘my pace’ person so much as this.

 

It was pure chance that he looked up and away from his mobile’s screen, but when he did his mouth hung open. “Oh my god, she’s back,” he got out, reaching out to smack Jeonghan- _hyung_ on the shoulder urgently. “She’s back, it’s that lady on the bike again!”

 

Indeed, right outside the van’s window, keeping stately pace, was the figure on the Hayabusa again. This time, with the sun at the right angle he saw exactly what Jeonghan- _hyung_ had meant about butts, and that it _was_ a lady on the dangerous piece of equipment. He pressed his head closer to the darkened window, placed one hand against the window and cautiously twitched his fingers in tentative hello as the rest of the guys crowded to their side to take a look. To his amazement she lifted her hand back in greeting, featureless carbon-fibre helmet turning his way.

 

“No way,” Hansol muttered sleepily next to him. “I think she sees you, Boo-Boo. Wave again.”

 

He did, and he got the impression the lady giggled as she waved back before she spurred the bike on just a trifle more.

 

All the guys were waving now, and a happy feeling crested in Seungkwan’s chest, partly from him and partly from seeing the gentle smile on Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s face as if he could read the lady’s thoughts. Knowing him, he probably could. He watched Seungcheol- _hyung_ wave at her, looking as much at her as the bike, then Jihoon- _hyung_ who looked _hungry_ for the bike and suffering Jun- _hyung_ , who had Minghao- _hyung_ draped so far over his lap to see that he might as well have been a bed.

 

“Goodbye, cutiepies,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ suddenly said out loud, then blinked in surprise, twisting his head as if he hadn’t meant to speak those words.

 

The lady on the bike bent forward a little – okay, Seungkwan blushed a little when she did that – and the bike leapt under her as she accelerated smoothly. For a second the front wheel hovered off the ground, but instead of tumbling it touched down smoothly and sprang away, as if marking the end to their Busan memories.

 

It took a moment before Seokmin cleared his throat, grinning like a loon. “Someday I’m gonna marry a _noona_ like that,” he said ever so seriously.

 

“Seokmin- _ah_ ,” Wonwoo drawled from up front. “The day you marry a _noona_ like that is the day I get a dog. Just saying.”

 

The van burst into laughter at that, mood bright and bubbly like champagne.

 

===============================================

 

The Daegu fansign went okay, though Seungkwan was with Minghao- _hyung_ in the hotel instead of Hansolie, and Seungcheol conspired with Seungmin- _hyung_ to take them all to a restaurant. Coming back to Seoul, even on a train, felt as if they were slowly making their way back to reality. That was underscored when one of the PDs sat them down when they returned, and looked around the table impassively.

 

 _This is just like that pre-debut time…_ Seungkwan marvelled. _I still feel small._

 

“Congratulations,” he finally said, relaxing into a smile. “17 Carat has made over fifty thousand sales so far, and it’s currently at number eight on the US charts – we’re holding strong at fourth on the Gaon charts.”

 

The boys burst out cheering and applauding; Soonyoung leant over the table to high-five Jihoon over the table, who looked as if he wanted to cry. Beside him, Vernon offered him a subtle fist-bump.

 

“We’ve decided to go ahead with the second album, which will be aiming for a September release. We’ll be working with LOEN Entertainment again. Woozi-gun, you’ll be working closely with Bumzu- _ssi_ to clean up all the last bits currently still outstanding – I’ve heard the concept songs you passed to him and they’re good. Hoshi- _ssi_ , this is the first time we’re going to let you work solely on the choreo, though you are of course welcome to get help from the other members.”

 

“Seungkwan- _ssi_ , Hoshi- _ssi_ , I’ve also received favourable reports on your Andromeda content, so please keep that up as well,” the director muttered as he went down his bullet-point list. “You’re booked on ShowCa next month, so brush up. I’ll give the full schedule to your manager, so remember to check your emails. Thanks to the success of your first EP we’ve received a significant shift in revenue, so Mansae will be a fully produced music video…”

 

He smiled as they started cheering again, putting his tablet down. “We made a good start. Let’s keep this pace, and you’ll have a chance at the Rookie awards at MAMA. It means you’ll have to work harder than you ever have before, but if you can make _that_ then I’ll acknowledge you as the hard-working, self-producing group that you are.” He pinned the leaders of the various units down with a strict gaze. “This will be a test for you as well in seeing how well you manage your units, and how you encourage productivity. This company is making a change and taking a chance on you, taking a different road of idol production. Don’t let us down.”

 

They all bowed as he stood to make his way out of the conference room, and everyone breathed an explosive sigh as the door closed behind him. “Right,” Seungcheol said after a minute to still the babble that started up. “This is what we’re going to do. The other two leaders and I will get together and discuss the groups, but we’re all going to cross-skill like we never have before. I want you eking out every scrap of talent you have. We have our songs for the next album, so we’re going to divide the groups up into smaller units. No, not our normal units. Each one will split almost like we did for the pre-debut showcase: a member from each unit, sometimes two.”

 

Jeonghan cleared his throat and Seungcheol nodded at him. “This doesn’t mean that you can neglect anything else,” Seventeen’s angel said. “Your school work is still important, as are your exams. If any of you are struggling, anyone at all, you come to me and I will arrange for another member to tutor you. Everyone that’s already graduated, you’re fair bait. Everyone still in school, you keep your nose to the grindstone.”

 

The younger members sat with big eyes, subsiding a bit to hear habitually lazy, friendly Jeonghan lay down the law like that.

 

“I’ll pin up three lists at the dorm,” Seungcheol continued. “Vocal, Rap and Performance. If you are not in these units but think you’d like to try out what it’s like, like Seungkwanie likes to rap, you put your name down. Jun-ah, Minghao-ah, sorry to pick on you, but we’ve got to get your pronunciations spot-on, and in return I want everyone else to think of learning another language like we did for the wedding. Stick to the Asian ones for now.”

 

“It’s going to take a lot of effort,” Jisoo put in gently. “If you find you are struggling, even if you just want someone to talk to, please come and find one of us. It’s true what PD-nim said, we’re an experimental group. I know we’re all guys, but please channel all your fighting energy into our music, not actual fights.”

 

Silence descended over the group as they internalised that.

 

“Finally,” Jeonghan said, “At least half our members are some form of supernatural, if not more. It’s not something an idol group ever dealt with before as far as I know, so we’re going to start working on control. No causing more rain and thunderstorms, Jihoon-ah, and no singing someone into a stupor, Seungkwanie, things like that.”

 

“I’ve never…!” Seungkwan said with a start.

 

Jeonghan gave him a nod. “I know, but you can. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. We still want the other groups to have a fair chance. For now, let’s split up and take the next hour to calm down and think. If you have _any_ ideas, send them to the group chat. I’ll tabulate all of them and the _hyung_ line will talk about them to the staff, see if they are viable.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Soonyoung said. “We’ll need a girl for the music video, at least for the choreo I had imagined.”

 

Jeonghan’s smile widened like a shark’s. “Don’t worry. I think I know just the one.”

 

======================================

 

Sora lay flat on her back staring up at the ceiling of her room, trying not to feel chilled and alienated by it. Oh, it was lovely, but it was lovely in the way high-brow décor was lovely: not her taste, not suited to her age and especially not something she felt at home in. Even here her mother’s tastes ruled her life. Her head was pounding from the force of the migraine she normally got after her mother’s evaluation sessions, and her throat felt as if it were on fire – she already knew she’d be no good the next day and thanked her lucky stars that it was a Sunday.

 

For a moment the offer that the man at Pledis had made rocked through her head, and she wondered whether she dared accept it. Her mother would never sign off on the paperwork and her dad was out of the country so much she couldn’t remember when last she had seen him.

 

Her phone buzzed next to her on the pillow, shattering whatever peace she had managed to get. Scooping it up, she frowned at the phone screen, trying to figure out who would be contacting her at eleven at night. It wasn’t Hobi-oppa, she knew that much, since she hadn’t even had the energy to call him, and simply texted him an ‘ok’ emoji. She pinched her eyes shut as she answered, more to have relief from the ringing than anything else. “Hello?”

 

“Choi Sora?” The voice was male, but light, and didn’t sound familiar.

 

“Mmhm? Do I know you?”

 

“You were at our building the other night, delivering coffee. My name is Jeonghan. I’m the one with the long hair you saw there.”

 

Her temples throbbed even worse. “Jeonghan- _ssi_ ,” she said tiredly. “Sorry. I didn’t recognise your voice. I remember you, of course.”

 

“It’s alright, we didn’t speak for that long. I was wondering, Bumzu- _hyung_ told me he offered you a chance to audition. We currently have a video role opening, if you just want to see more about the whole process before you dip your feet in.”

 

Sora’s eyes shot open and she blinked up at her ceiling again, feeling a flicker of hope curl behind her breastbone in the empty, aching space there.

 

“Choi Sora- _ssi_? Are you still there?”

 

“Ah… yes? Please, call me Sora. Yes, I’m interested. Can you tell me more?”

 

“How about we meet at the coffee shop you got that order from tomorrow, let’s say at eleven? It’s Sunday, so you shouldn’t have cram school, right? I’ll bring my manager along, and it’ll be a public place, so please don’t be scared. It’s literally just coffee and a job offer. If you have an agent, you can bring them too.”

 

“Okay… I’ll see you there, Jeonghan-ssi. No agent. I… goodnight?”

 

“Goodnight, Sora- _ssi_. Sleep well.”

 

Her phone’s screen darkened and she let it flop back to her pillow. Even through the migraine she could feel the desire to smile. It wasn’t really much of a choice. Taking a deep breath, she picked her phone up again and dialled a number she hadn’t in three years. When the person on the other end answered, she almost cried. “Appa…?” she got out. “Appa, I need a favour…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Dino just can't catch a break when it comes to girls. At least this time it's a pre-teen mermaid with a great family and not a pint-sized little assassin. 
>   2. You know that Jimin threatened the muscle bunny when it came to the safety of his kids, and the group is so prone to having things happen to them too. 
>   3. I think that Chan and Jungkook are quite alike at times: both strong, both the maknae of the group, both competitive, though the BTS crew indulge Kookie a little more than Seventeen does Channie, I feel. 
>   4. The 'busa lady shows up again. 
>   5. Seokmin apparently wants to date someone older than him, but also someone with good legs that does aegyo. He is so outta luck with the 'busa lady. 
>   6. Whenever I think of Seventeen pre-debut, I think about that awful meeting they had where everyone was nervous and joking around, and then their rings got taken away. 
>   7. Just warning everyone, as BTS is not in this universe as anything but a group of friends, I plan on developing Seventeen into being that hugely popular. 
>   8. Jeonghan often comes across as the lazy, friendly one, but I get the feeling he can be tough when he has to. The hyung line is not going to let anyone screw up the band's chances, not even the band, which is why they are laying it out like that. 
>   9. A little more of Sora's part of the story. 
> 



	25. Chapter 25

Eleven came way too early for Sora, who had barely managed to get out of bed. Last night she had been on the phone with her father for three hours, spilling her heart and worries out to him. This morning when she had barely rolled out of bed there had been an e-mail from him, with a copy of a scanned document bearing his signature, signing off on his dreams. It had motivated her through shower and a bowl of tasteless porridge matched with two pain tablets. On the way over, in the Uber, the driver stared at her worriedly as she hastily downed two Red Bulls, but didn’t stop her. Perhaps he was used to it from students these days.

 

She had dressed up as casually as she knew how, and if there was one thing she was thankful that her mother had insisted on, it was the regular visits to the dermatologist and the salon. Given that it was almost summer but also an interview she had gone with a moderate pair of shorts and a conservative top, even though both flouncy, flowery things were way outside her normal tastes. She would have felt better entering the shop with her old, scuffed combat boots on.

 

It was barely before eleven when she entered the shop, yet the really pretty one and an older guy were already seated in the back of the hipster joint, nursing coffees. Grimacing at her tardiness, she ordered quickly and carried the rooibos frap over to them, bowing deeply. “Good morning, I’m sorry if I’m late. I’m Choi Sora, please take care of me.”

 

Jeonghan smiled up at her and stood, as if he was the lead in a drama of some sort, and the older man smiled at her as well. “Good morning, Sora-ssi,” he said kindly. “You’re right on time. This is our manager, Lee Seungmin-ssi, he’s the one that takes care of us. Would you please join us?”

 

Sora hesitantly sat and curled her fingers around her cup, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

 

“Sora-ssi,” Seungmin asked curiously. “Have you ever considered being an idol? Have you been scouted before?”

 

“I… once,” she admitted. “I was coming out of a noraebang with my friends and a lady approached me, but my mother disapproved of the offer,” she said honestly. “I faced some restrictions after that.”

 

“And yet you can sing and dance quite well, and forgive me for saying this, but you look like a cross between Song Hye Kyo and Hyuna,” he appraised. “You should consider auditioning for our company.”

 

She cleared her throat. “I’m not quite sure about the whole process. That’s why, when Jeonghan-ssi called, I felt somewhat excited, because it could be like a lesson so that I can see what goes on? Is there anything special that you would require? If there is some choreography or singing parts to learn…”

 

Jeonghan shook his head, long hair whispering silkily across his shoulders. “It’s for one of our music videos. No singing or dancing, you really just have to look pretty for the camera.” He clicked his tongue teasingly. “Not prettier than me, of course. That’s a requirement.”

 

“Oppa,” she said wearily as Seungmin-ssi stifled a laugh. “I told your friend last time that wasn’t going to be the case. Even the other night with no makeup you were still prettier than I am. Could you please let go of that.”

 

“Our Jeonghan-ssi has a very strange sense of humour,” Seungmin-ssi said idly as Jeonghan grinned at her. “You will learn it still, if you accept. There is a contract… if you are underage one of your parents will have to sign it? Do you perhaps have a lawyer friend that can look it over? We’re not trying to exploit anyone, but there are going to be a couple of days of long hours filming it.”

 

Sora thought of the fleet of lawyers in the firm her father permanently retained and nodded unhappily.

 

“Sora-ssi?” Jeonghan asked gently. “Is it no good?”

 

“No! I mean, no, oppa… it’s not that. My mother won’t approve when she hears at all, but I’ve spoken to my father and he’s agreed to take a look at the contract at least.” She put her cup down to dig into her bag, dragging out a business card. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I don’t have any of my own, but you can send it to this e-mail address, it’s his.” She passed it over the table to Seungmin-ssi, who nodded and tucked it into his pocket.

 

“We’ll forward it on and if he agrees, we’ll contact you within the week, okay?” he said.

 

“And in the meantime, can you please stay away from the studio?” Jeonghan said plaintively. “Our maknae has such a huge crush on you and right now, all of them need to concentrate very hard, we’re preparing for our second album.”

 

Sora blinked and nodded, thanking her lucky stars that her hair covered her reddening ears. Her fingers curled around her cup again. “Hobi-oppa played your first EP in the class for us the other day,” she shared. “It was very nice to dance to. I… um, I should go. Thank you, Jeonghan-ssi, Manager-nim, I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

 

They smiled at her and nodded, dipping their heads as well, watching as she walked away.

 

Jeonghan sighed as he sat back down. The girl’s thoughts had been a blessing, so tightly controlled and quiet that he hadn’t heard them at all above the din of others’ minds.

 

“Jeonghan-ah,” Seungmin murmured, sipping at his coffee. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

 

“No,” Jeonghan murmured as he thought back to the long talk it had cost him with Bumzu- _hyung_ to even get the girl’s number, and certain things that had been said. “No, _hyung_ , but it’s not bad, okay?

 

===============================================

 

“Seungkwan-ah,” the stylist noona said patiently, but with some despair. “Put the pants on. They’re not going to bite you.”

 

Seungkwan stared at the piece of clothing she held out to him. The changing room was a sea of black as the members got ready for the promotional pictures. At a glance he could see Seungcheol- _hyung_ skinning into a tight leather shirt, Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s bleached blonde hair was being combed back into a wet look, and even the maknae looked at ease with his outfit. Compared to them he felt like a big, fat loser as he took the pants hesitantly, and he saw Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s head snap up as if he heard the thought.

 

Knowing him, he likely had. These days his second-oldest _hyung_ was on every negative thought like white on rice. It was getting so that no one could build up a complex about their looks.

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ came to his rescue, smiling at the stylist noona and grabbing something from her. “Come on, Seungkwanie,” he said. “ _Hyung_ ’s going to teach you something.”

 

He led him to one of the penned-off changing areas and pulled the curtains shut. “Right,” he got out. “So. I’ve got a question. Do you think Kookie is fat?”

 

Seungkwan blinked. “ _Hyung_? No! He’s like some kind of fitness model.”

 

“But his thighs are bigger than yours.”

 

Seungkwan struggled to argue with that. It was totally true.

 

“Do you think I’m fat?”

 

He just _stared_. Of all the things Jiminie- _hyung_ wasn’t, fat was almost at the top of the list. Biting his lip, he shook his head as he hesitantly took off his t-shirt. “No…”

 

“And you’re almost as slim as I am, and you’re a little taller,” his _hyung_ said. “So. You can do this. Trust me. I always thought I couldn’t pull these off, and I’m still ashamed that the first time Yoongi- _hyung_ saw me was in a pair of shiny latex pants, but do you know what he said afterwards?” He grinned at Seungkwan. “I can’t tell you, because you’re not nineteen yet. But trust me. This is the _big_ secret to getting these on.” He held up a can of talcum powder.

 

Seungkwan stared, first at his _hyung_ , then at the powder.

 

“It doesn’t take much, honestly, just a little to make sure that the friction between your skin and the leather is lowered.” Patiently, step by step, Jimin coaxed Seungkwan into putting on a thin layer, then wiggling into the pants.

 

Seungkwan wanted to cry when they not only went on, but went on smoothly, and the waist wasn’t too small for him. On the contrary, they were big enough he could tuck his undershirt in as well, though the short boxers hovered almost on the edge of rolling up.

 

“There!” Jiminie- _hyung_ said, stepping back before he bent to tug the legs straight. “Hold on, I need to take a picture.” He whipped out his phone to aim it at Seungkwan.

 

“ _Hyung_ , noo….”

 

“Tae is going to kill me if I don’t show him… ah. There. Okay. Go outside.”

 

Seungkwan felt entirely overwhelmed as he shyly pulled the curtain back and scooted back into the room. No one looked at him at first, and the material didn’t hamper his movement in any way. It felt almost nice, like the kind of gentle pressure a sports bandage would give. He made it all the way to his chair before an excited squeak and a “Kwanniiiiie!” rang from Seokmin- _hyung_.

 

“Holy shit.” That was Jihoon- _hyung_ , who not only got glared at by the noonas but their leader. “That’s an ass and a half.”

 

“Kwannie, you look so good!” Soonyoung- _hyung_ called as he came over to pat his backside, turning him so the others could get a better look.

 

Seungkwan, almost dying with embarrassment, looked up into the mirror and caught Hansol’s dumbstruck gaze. It was just a momentary dip, but he saw Hansol’s gaze drop to his backside, then look up at him again, and his cheeks turned all the way red. He looked away hastily, tugged away from Soonyoung- _hyung_ and jumped into the pair of loose shorts he had to wear over it, pulling on the jacket afterwards.

 

That didn’t stop him grinning like a fool throughout his entire hair styling session though.

 

 _Feel good in your skin. It’s yours, and you’re lovely._ He could dimly remember Jin- _hyung_ saying that to him once, and he realised now how valid that was. He did feel good. Perhaps the world wasn’t ready for Boo Seungkwan from Jeju-do, instead of the other way around.

 

============================================

 

Jeonghan and Jisoo gathered the vocalists in the small studio Woozi had claimed as his own, dragging in spare chairs. Seungkwan, who had been appointed official note-taker since his handwriting was the nicest, was furnished with an office pad and a pen.

 

“So, for the jacket image for this, we’ve already come up with some concepts,” Jeonghan said. “Jihoon-ah, the mood of the album is still quite upbeat and contemporary, right?”

 

Jihoon nodded, curling up on his chair. “Of the five songs on the album, most of them are upbeat with synth and good beats,” he said critically. “The performance team really rocked it up with OMG, and Fronting is equally good. I’m glad we were able to step up our game so much. On our side, I’ve got a good feeling about ‘When I Grow Up’, we made it so that it’s easy to follow and a little groovy, which is really doing well in music right now. I think, however, we need to concentrate on ‘Rock’.”

 

Jisoo tilted his head curiously. “Why?”

 

“Well, it’s a trend I noticed with the other producers and Bumzu- _hyung_ ; whilst not many groups can pull off our contemporary pop vibe and it _is_ popular, there’s a marked shift in the direction of slightly stronger songs, especially for male idols. There's also the fact that they tend to do better overseas, and if we want to expand into that market we'll need to think about it. It might help if for a song or two on this album we have a darker vibe, or in the promo pictures. Like we did for the new pictures we took for ‘Adore U’ for that magazine article.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan teased. “Do you really want to become a biker that badly?”

 

Jihoon reached out to kick him lightly in the thigh, grinning. It was no secret that he’d been looking up bike-related information recently, or discussing the merits of different brands with Seungmin- _hyung_ , who seemed to be just as fanatic about them.

 

“Secondly, Jisoo-ya won us the right to decide on image concepts this time,” Jeonghan said magnanimously. “Well done, Joshuji, it was tight against our maknae, but you pulled through. Performance team got the special stages, and Hip-hop got song choices."

 

“They’re going to colour our hair again for the MV, but I thought it might be nice if we did it as a group too,” Jisoo murmured. “I’d like to stay brown, but go a few shades lighter.”

 

Seokmin grimaced. “I don’t have the face for going blonde yet, I’ll look like a dyed swordfish. Can I stick to a really dark brown? Like, darker than yours is going to be, Jisoo- _hyung_.”

 

Seungkwan leant closer, eager, even as he scrawled notes down. “I think Jeonghannie- _hyung_ should be the one that goes blonde – you’re already so pretty, _hyung_ , and I think it’ll really suit your features, especially if you have it loose and flowing, not just tried up.”

 

Jeonghan grinned lazily at him, shooting a quick look at a nodding Jisoo before he agreed with a shrug. “If it suits the stylists, sure. But only if that means Jihoon-ah goes pink. Not a really bright one, more cotton candy? And I think you should go reddish-brown, Seungkwanie. I don’t know what the shade name is. Mahogany? Red brown.”

 

Jihoon shot him a flat look. “Candy pink? What kind of a ffff…” He snapped his mouth shut on the cursing as Jeonghan lazily eyebrowed him.

 

“Aaaaing,” Seokmin said happily, giving a wriggle like a happy puppy. “Pink haired Jihoonie- _hyung_ , I can’t wait! You’re going to look so cute! _Hyung_ , you have to persuade them to allow that!”

 

Jihoon’s cheeks puffed out and he exhaled noisily. “Just for that, I’m going to shift everything a half-key up,” he threatened. “Watch me.”

 

No one believed him.

 

===================================================

 

Dino hadn’t expected anyone to be there when he took the trash out the next morning, but to his surprise someone waited for him, someone he hadn’t seen in quite some time. The girl wasn’t quite so thin, and her skin definitely looked better even as she perched on the back palisade wall with only a slice of her in the sun. He felt something in his chest unclench at the sight of her, as if taut muscles relaxed, and he couldn’t help but smile up at her. “Good morning! Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

 

This time he didn’t take any chocolate, having learnt his lesson from giving the poor girl theobromine poisoning on top of her wounds. Instead, preparing a mug of coffee, he took that out with a packet of healthy dried fruit chips instead. She was still there when he came out again, blinking quizzically at him. Her stoop from the fence to the spot in front of him was noiseless and graceful; liquid, almost, like a water sculpture had chosen to grow human features.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured as she took the mug and the fruit chips, stashing the latter in a ratty pocket before she very carefully held out a plastic bag to him. Inside, cleaned and pressed and smelling of sunshine and laundry detergent, was the sweater he had given her last time he had seen her. It was absolutely meticulously folded, like she had gotten some pointers from a store clerk.”And thank you. I am sorry that I inconvenienced you.”

 

Considering her short form carefully, he took the bag, took the coffee and set them aside. Then, very gently, he reached out to hug her, careful with the feeling of her. For a moment he remembered Sora-ssi, wondered what this girl would have been like with a posh life like that, and squeezed again. “I’m so sorry that I managed to poison you. I really didn’t know. And I’m sorry that I treated you like some kind of pet to be fed occasionally. I’m Lee Chan, but you can call me Chan, or Dino if you want. Thank you for protecting Jihoonie- _hyung_. That must have been really tough.”

 

The girl’s arms flopped for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to do with them, before they crept up hesitantly so that she could press back. Oddly, despite the thin look she had, her arms felt as if they had more strength than visible, though she kept the hold she had on his back very gentle. One quick press and she stepped back. “No one has ever fed me just because they were feeling nice,” she got out. “I don’t know very many… clean people.”

 

Cleanliness, he had learnt, had nothing to do with actual filth for her, but everything with the kind of nastiness that could stain the soul. Chan nodded as he retrieved the coffee for her again.

 

“Your elder… the boy… _hyung_?” She grimaced. “I don’t know your language well. It was a mistake. He looks much like the other one, the one with many faces, if you look quickly.”

 

Chan had to consider that for a few moments. “Are you saying that Jihoon- _hyung_ wasn’t the target, but Yoongi- _hyung_ was?” he asked carefully. “Oh… um, my Mandarin is non-existent. Want me to fetch Minghao- _hyung_ for you?”

 

She shrugged uneasily, but it was at about that moment that Jun stuck his head out of the doorway anyway, looking for him, and saw them leaning against the fence.

 

Chan watched as Jun- _hyung_ tried to step forward, but was stopped by a hand on his arm, and Minghao- _hyung_ came out instead. Jun- _hyung_ looked really, _really_ pissed off at that, but he let it happen.

 

The girl at his side downed the coffee in a few gulps and pressed the mug back into his hands before bowing deeply to them. Just a short sentence later, she scooted away, hopping over the fence and away, though he didn’t think she’d go that far. “What did she say?” he asked his _hyung_ s curiously.

 

Minghao- _hyung_ sighed and shook his head. “She apologised for taking your time and thanked us for the coffee. Holy dharmic _hells_ she’s frustrating! Can’t she just sit down and tell us what she wants to tell us? Why does she have to fade like that?”

 

Chan, frowning, opened his mouth to defend her, but snapped it shut as Jun- _hyung_ gave him a _look_.

 

“Channie,” his oldest Chinese _hyung_ murmured. “Would you mind giving us some space? I think I need to have a conversation with Minghao-ah quickly.”

 

 _Okay, that’s creepy. He looks really really pissed off…_ “Sure _hyung_ ,” he said, and got whilst the getting was good, scooting back into the dorm quickly.

 

==============================================

 

Seungkwan had more or less known what was involved in getting hair dyed, but he hadn’t expected it to be such a long, tedious process, and he sat quietly in his corner admiring the noonas at work. They had only half the band with them, but even so they filled the small salon. From what he could see, Jeonghan- _hyung_ , Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Jihoon- _hyung_ were suffering the most of all the band members there, since they were going totally blonde, and it had to be carefully lightened because Jihoonie- _hyung_ had delicate hair, and Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s could apparently withstand some kind of nuclear holocaust.

 

Granted, that could also be the fumes from the bleach on his hair talking.

 

Feeling a little irritated, given that he didn’t have any of the babies of the group there to tease and he hadn’t been out in ages, he stood and wandered over to Soonyoung- _hyung_ , holding the towel protectively over his shoulders. Halfway there, as one of the noonas at the washing bowls turned her music a little louder, he wanted to cheer. Son Dambi was Pledis’ reigning queen, and he could already see Jihoon- _hyung_ cringe into himself from old memories of being woken up.

 

“Ije wake up, wake wake up~!” he called as he started dancing to the song, happy to be on the move again. The noonas laughed out loud and one of them started to dance next to him, miming and posing terribly. Seungkwan followed her lead with relish, shoes squeaking on the concrete floor of the building, twirling and miming every flip of his hair. He vaguely saw Seungmin- _hyung_ take out his phone to start filming them, but was way too happy to stop now.

 

“Jihoonie- _hyung_!” he called out to his sulking elder as the song switched to AOA’s Heart Attack. “Come on, show us how it’s done!”

 

Jihoon, not to be outdone, curled out of his chair as his noona wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and started to bop around, shaking his chest and popping as if he had a real rack. It looked _ridiculous_ , and happy, and the rest of the people cheered loudly for him as he did it, hollering out scores out of ten and applauding loudly. He didn’t stop either; when the song swung around into Twice’s ‘Ooh Ahh’ he swung right with, hips swivelling as if he had a short yellow check skirt on as well.

 

“Man,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ muttered as he watched, eyes wide. “I feel like I’m in Neverland. These fumes are _strong_.” He grinned savagely, hair still slicked back into a wet mess from the rinse, and hopped out of the chair to join. Between the two of them, they set the floor on fire, and the rest of them joined in – it was a popular song, and it relieved the humdrum of getting their hair dyed. In the first row, those two and Jun- _hyung_ took the lead, with Seungkwan, Minghao- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ miming as their backup dancers.

 

“Do Catallena!” one of the older noonas called as they stopped, breathless. “Orange Caramel’s Catallena!”

 

Boo Seungkwan had never met a challenge he backed away from, and he sprung right back into position with Soonyoung- _hyung_ on his heels. Surprisingly, filling in for Seokmin- _hyung_ , Jisoo- _hyung_ danced, making him nearly fall down with laughing when the older boy mimed Seokmin- _hyung_ ’s patented screech.

 

The atmosphere in the salon was so much better when they were finally allowed to stop, and Seungkwan could sit back and relax without ants in his pants. He curled up on the chair and turned to watch his hairdresser noona start mixing the colour the stylists had chosen from their suggestions. It looked vaguely purple, and he blinked. “Um… noona, it’s not going to be that colour, right?”

 

She laughed and shook her head. “We’ll make you look pretty, I promise. Just closer your eyes and see if you can fall asleep a little. This’ll be over in a bit.”

 

That afternoon, when they walked out into the sunlight he really was pleased. The colour looked quite red still, but it suited the new cut, which she had fluffed out a little and left it a trifle long in the back. It had never been quite that curly and messy, like he had woken up without doing anything more than running his fingers through it.

 

He saw a hand wiggle fingers at him.

 

“Give me your phone,” Seungmin- _hyung_ ordered, and when he did so his manager took a series of snaps for him all the way around his head before he got a half-candid shot of his eyes closed against the afternoon sunlight. “There. Remember to send one to your mother later on.”

 

“Thank you, _hyung_!” he called as the van pulled around and they piled into it.

  

=============================================

 

Jimin danced hard enough that sweat flew from his hair, trying to keep up with Hobi- _hyung_ and his insane new choreography. He had progressed to the point where he could at least handle a weapon swinging in his direction, but his _hyung_ ’s passion for dance and fitness knew no bounds, and ever since he found out that Jimin’s new body could keep up with him, it had been Hell Week constantly. Across the room from him, Kookie was sweating like the big muscled baby he was as well, and he smirked for a moment. All that muscle had to be heavy to haul around in a fast dance like this.

 

“Pay attention to the mirror, Jiminie!” Hobi- _hyung_ roared as he caught him looking away.

 

Chastened, he returned to look at the mirror and tried to push himself a little faster. Yoongi- _hyung_ had laughed at him when he invited him to dance with, kicking him out of his studio, and instead Seungmin- _hyung_ had thrown poor Soonyoung-ah to them to dance the rest of his energy off that evening. The young chollima wasn’t even winded. It was _unfair._

 

The song ended, thankfully, and he limped over to Jungkook, who had gone from vertical to horizontal, splayed flat on the floor of the dance studio, groaning deeply. He cracked open a bottle of water and flopped down next to him, watching as the two energy batteries of the dance squad went through the routine again, sharpening up Soonyoung’s moves until they were a unit of synched arms, elbows, legs and hips.

 

“I want my eomma,” Jungkook moaned after swallowing some water. “Where do they get off having that kind of energy?”

 

Jimin snorted. “And where’s Tae?” he asked, half-outraged. “He’s my best friend, he should be suffering through this with us.”

 

Jungkook sniffed. “Court function. Not that he didn’t laugh and dance like a hyena when he heard it’d get him out of practice.”

 

“Same with Yoongi- _hyung_ ,” Jimin muttered. “I have no idea how he keeps those SNSD legs of his, he literally is a rock in human form. Although… I guess he’s busy with the boys’ second album.”

 

“How’s that going? I heard Hobi- _hyung_ mention something about a Battle of the Bands too. My mom’s still unhappy they had to leave so soon, and there’s a whiny mermaid girl that keeps on asking after ‘her Channie-oppa’.”

 

Jimin smothered a giggle. “It’s going well enough. They’re working their butts off, and all seems calm for the moment, miraculously enough. It’s going to be arranged for after their next album, sort of as a little promo for that. The managers are hoping that it brings them closer to maybe getting the rookie award at this year’s Mama, if Mansae is successful enough.”

 

Jungkook sat up. “You’re starting to sound like a businessman yourself, Jiminie,” he teased. “And how is the actual business going?”

 

“Painful,” Jimin got out. “I should never have listened to Namjoon and started Park Enterprises. I don’t even have a college degree yet, but I’m wanting the world to believe that I’ve got the next new source of clean energy. I don’t like exploiting Sehunie like this.”

 

Jungkook quieted at that. Started more on a whim than true desire, Park Enterprises had come to be after an old friend of Namjoon- _hyung_ had asked him to look after his grandson, as he was too infirm to really do it. The boy’s parents were dead and the boy was some kind of genuine genius... he hadn’t understood the story or the history well enough himself, but Jin- _hyung_ had adopted the boy with the same fervour as he had Jiminie a few years ago, and Sehun was slowly coming back to them from a world that no one understood, filled with figures and patterns like a universe constantly going nova between his ears. “Has Namjoon figured out the reactor yet?”

 

Jimin snorted. “Even the scientists at SNU hadn’t figured out the reactor yet. Namjoon- _hyung_ could still follow the equations on Sehunie’s wall, but none of them can explain why the thing works. It just does. The dancing though… the dancing is helping him. Hobi- _hyung_ is really a miracle, but he misses his Kookie- _hyung_.”

 

Jungkook smiled his pleased, shy bunny smile. “I’ll call him. What about that hot girl I saw here the other day?”

 

Jimin blinked. “Hot girl?” he asked blankly.

 

“Hobi- _hyung_ ’s sidekick.”

 

“Oh! You mean Sora? It’s going a little better with her too… you think she’s hot?” he asked curiously. “I wasn’t aware you found women attractive that way.”

 

Jungkook snorted. “I don’t have to be Tae to appreciate an art masterpiece either. I like her dancing style, and she raps like fire.”

 

Jimin felt his mouth fall open. “She raps? What kind of ridiculous triple threat life does some people lead?”

 

“I know,” Jungkook said with heavy irony, looking him straight in the eye. “How _dare_ some people be that beautiful and talented.”

 

================================================

 

Mingyu scooted the video back to the starting point and sighed heavily as Monsta X’s latest weekly episode started playing again.

 

“Oppaaaaaa, notice me~,” Wonwoo called sarcastically from his top bunk. “Mingyu- _ah_ , you’re an idol as well. You can just go up to them if we ever see them and speak to him to ask him how he does it.”

 

“I can’t go up to Shin Hoseok and ask him how he got abs, he’s going to laugh at me,” Mingyu muttered. “He’s an eleven.”

 

Wonwoo pinched his eyes shut, praying for patience. “Mingyu- _ah_ ,” he said. “If I have to hear Trespass play one more time I’m going to break your phone. Talk to Seungmin- _hyung_ , tell him you want to start exercising. Talk to Jungkook- _hyung_. Talk to _someone_. Just don’t talk to your screen again. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be an eleven as well.”

 

Mingyu lifted his foot to kick the bottom of Wonwoo’s bunk bed. “You just don’t appreciate the effort.”

 

“You’re our group visual,” Wonwoo enunciated as calmly as he could. “I don’t appreciate wasted effort. I neither want to look like nor exercise as hard as Shin Hoseok.” He paused thoughtfully, got an idea for a snitch of lyrics and tried to return his attention to his book, but the sound of the door slamming open made him jump with shock and irritation.

 

“Mingyu- _ah_!” a breathless Seungcheol said. “Jihoon- _ah_ has managed to hook up the set-top box to the new TV! We’ve got the episode streaming over here!”

 

“God damn it,” Wonwoo got out, flopping over on his stomach and pulling his pillow over his head. "I should have become a student instead." Pulling his phone closer grumpily, he started going through their fansites, and came across something posted there that made his eyes widen.  _Five million views. It's got five million views..._  

 

He flailed out of bed, ignoring the fact that he nearly wrote his skull off against the ceiling, and went storming into the lounge, all chill lost for the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So now they have a girl for the MV at least, and Seungcheol is going to faint when he finds out; Jeonghan likely knows something he's not talking about. 
>   2. Seungkwan's been noted to have some body issues as well, which is something I've also struggled with, so I wanted to have him slowly develop into getting over it with help from people around him. If you look carefully at that debut photo of them in all black [here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/kpop/images/f/f3/SEVENTEEN_debut_group_photo.png/revision/latest?cb=20160703181649), you'll see that he indeed has some very tight leather leggings on underneath the shorts. This is just to replicate that look. I wish I had a wardrobe like that picture. 
>   3. Hansol's Thing for Boo-backside begins. 
>   4. This chapter really rambles back and forth, but I had fun writing a little serious production moment with them chatting about concepts in there. 
>   5. Jihoon-the-biker is foreshadowing Call, Call, Call. 
>   6. Minghao and Jun at odds over Jun's safety again. 
>   7. With Seungkwan the girl group stan to set them going, I don't think there's a girl group dance Seventeen can't do. Also, that 'Ooh Aah' dance cover still makes me giggle. 
>   8. Jisoo doesn't dance enough IMO. 
>   9. Hobi the tough dance instructor works the maknae line very hard, I feel. Because that boy can dance. 
>   10. Jungkookie and Jiminie are finally friends enough to say sweet things about each other! It only took them over two years. 
>   11. The last part of the chapter courtesy of Jungkook's abs, Shin Hoseok from Monsta X's abs and Mingyu the developing fitness nut. 
> 



	26. Chapter 26

Wonwoo burst into the small living room, surprising the guys all clustered next to the TV they had gotten for their successful debut. He blinked and paused as he saw Soonyoung- _hyung_ in the midst of trying to clamber in the long, thin box like a cat would. Almost immediately he decided to ignore it; some sights were simply not meant to be analysed.

 

“The guys that went to get their hair done today,” he asked into the silence. “Did you look to see what happened afterwards on the fan-café?”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ frowned. “No? None of us uploaded anything, it’s not exactly glamorous, is it?”

 

“Wonwoo-ah, what’s going on?” Seungcheol- _hyung_ asked.

 

He cleared his throat and scrolled up, right back to the start of the comments thread. “I like the tiny one with the cute smile and the wiggly hips~~” he read out, pitching his voice a little higher. “He’s like a little pink mochi I want to look at always!” At Jihoon’s confused look, he grinned. “There are five hearts after that one. And here’s another one… uh, okay, not going to read that one, Jisoo- _hyung_ will just have to look it up himself. Oh! Another one. ‘Who’s the hottie that did Son Dambi’s Queen, I swear he’s such a diva, using that dye brush as a microphone!’ There’s one that says ‘How can anyone be this beautiful without makeup they are such beautiful dorks kekekekeke’. And so on, and so on.”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ nearly ran over him as he stormed to look at Wonwoo’s clip. “Oh hell,” he got out. “Someone must have accidentally uploaded it or something.” With a twitch of his fingers, he swiped the clip over to their new TV, and the group got bombarded with the sight of half of their members dancing like loons.”

 

Seungkwan sank down on the sofa’s arm, moving automatically as Hansol pulled him down off it onto his lap. “Oh my goooosh,” he whined as he saw himself dance to Son Dambi’s Queen in beautiful high definition. “I look so bad, oh my gooosh!”

 

“Divaboo,” Seokmin teased. “Man, you are working it. How many views does this have, _hyung_?”

 

Wonwoo leant on the entrance’s lintel. “A few million in the last two hours. It went viral somehow. “And don’t worry, Seungkwanie, wait until you see Jihoon-ah.”

 

Jihoon blanched and turned to face himself on TV, all wiggling hips and exaggerated chest movements.

 

“…still say you should have stayed with the Performance team, _hyung_ , that’s some quality popping  right there,” Dino teased as he wiggled a place open on the couch next to Seungcheol, who dragged him down and ruffled his hair for him.

 

“Jun- _hyung_!” Seokmin cheered, waving his arms in the air. “Look at you go with that half-wet t-shirt! Oh my gosh, I can see your collarbones right through it!”

 

Minghao stared at the screen spellbound. “It looks like half hair dye advert, half porn, _hyung_. Were you guys aiming for a CF or something for the dye company?”

 

“Soonyoung- _hyung_ ,” Wonwoo continued from his position. “There’s a fan here that, and I quote _directly_ , said that she thought that she stanned talent, but that she didn’t know what talent was until she saw you raking your hands through your shampoo-wet hair and moving your hips. And that if she becomes a mom early, she’s gonna sue you.”

 

“Oh my,” Jisoo muttered. “What a daring girl.”

 

Soonyoung blushed beet red as the others burst out laughing, collapsing on each other and the ground.

 

“I know that camera angle,” Jun- _hyung_ said as he picked himself up off the floor. “And the definition. That’s Seungmin- _hyung_ ’s camera, the one he normally uses for our candid shots. He must have wanted to show the other managers and it got accidentally uploaded. I hope his assistant doesn’t get disciplined.”

 

“She should get an award instead,” Wonwoo muttered. “Tons of people want to know more about us too, they’re asking each other where our pre-debut footage still is, and if anyone has candid clips. Some of the older fans have made a topic that contains links to all the old Andromeda broadcasts, and… oh my god. There are some comments here in English, in Mandarin… some in Russian. I think we just went global.”

 

============================================

 

Seungmin- _hyung_ sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “She begged me not to fire her,” he complained to Yoongi. “Three times. Honestly, does she think Pledis is still that kind of shit company? I’d get it if it were negative, but the publicity we’ve gotten from this is massive. Album sales jumped ten thousand overnight, and our staff office is already fielding calls from media outlets that want the boys to come and have a spin on their program. I feel like I want to give her a massive bonus instead, you know?”

 

Yoongi smirked at his monitor. “What do the big bosses say?”

 

Seungmin wrinkled his nose. “I… didn’t tell them it was a mistake, and she knows not to say anything either. I just told them that it was one of a series of initiatives to try and hype up the band.” He carded his fingers through his hair again, and sipped at his coffee.

 

“You’re picking up Jiminie’s nervous habits, I see,” Yoongi murmured as he looked at the young manager. “He also does that with his hair when he’s nervous. It worked out this time. Let’s just try and ride the wave of publicity as much as possible.”

 

“Ehh,” Seungmin muttered, then brightened. “Oh, but I did get signoff for that Battle of the Bands thing that your friend proposed. You know, the one with the studio, not the one with the fat stacks of cash. Ah… Jung Hoseok-ssi?”

 

Yoongi stopped what he was working on and looked at the young man. “Really?” he murmured. “That must’ve required quite a bit of lube. And it’s quick thinking of you to capitalise on it like that. I’m sure Hobi-ah will be happy, and it’s for a good cause.”

 

Seungmin put the cup down. “That’s what publicity should be used for, right?” he muttered. “Good causes? Sometimes I wish the idol industry was more socially conscious than it is now. Wonwoo-ah asked me a very interesting question the other day. We were talking about the mandatory military service and what might become of it in line of the peace talks that the North Koreans initiated. He asked me if I had ever sat back and thought what my life was worth; everything that I do with them, my passions and likes, and whether I had been scared. It hit me like a bullet. We’re practically raising these kids, and in ten years, if something happens, a decade of training and a chance at making the world a better place will be ended. Just like that, with a red bullet.”

 

“A red bullet,” Yoongi murmured to himself. In his mind the picture of the bullet arrived, fluttering from the shape of an arrow, and bodies bent around it, cut down like chaff. “Seungmin-ah, has it ever bothered you to work for a gay person? Does that strike your social consciousness too?”

 

Blinking, Seungmin took another sip of coffee and contemplated the rugged carpet that had been put in, but that already showed the tracks of footsteps on it. “That’s a difficult question, _hyung_. I want to say that no, of course I don’t care, because that’s the way the wind is blowing these days and I do like my job. But then I recall my grandfather once yelling about it until he was foaming at the mouth, because one of my cousins had come out. He took him from the family register. It’s a topic that both scares me and confuses me.”

 

Yoongi watched him carefully as he tried to gather his thoughts.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungmin finally said. “Can I support a gay person? Yes. Can I wander down Itaewon in a pair of tiny shorts with a rainbow flag painted on my junk? No. Do I think that people have a right to fuck who they want to? Definitely. I just don’t want to get into debates about it. If you don’t drag me there, I won’t care. Why are you asking all these questions?”

 

“Some of the boys are not what your grandfather’s generation would call straight,” Yoongi said quietly.

 

“My grandfather’s generation doesn’t have to listen to their music,” Seungmin said tightly in return. “And what the boys do in their spare time is neither my business nor yours, I feel, as long as they are well-informed on the prevailing opinions and what it might mean for their popularity if they come out. I just can’t sit them down for the talk then, I’ve literally never…”

 

Yoongi’s gummy grin showed. “Don’t worry, Seungmin-ah, _that_ is a matter I leave to Jiminie and a very fast internet connection.”

 

============================================

 

Sora stepped out of the cram school classroom at eight in the evening, breathing out slowly as she felt the tensions of the day melt off her. It was way earlier than normal, so she made for one of the second-floor bathrooms and changed, pulling on her street-gear and pulling her hoodie up. From there it took her minutes to catch a bus heading for the dance studio, and she breathed out a sigh of relief as she saw the lights still on in the upper stories.

 

Over the weeks they had been dancing together, she had become something between a secretary, a personal assistant, a gofer and … well, whatever Hobi-oppa wanted – that had been the price for the classes initially, and afterwards she did it because he needed the help, because the people interested her, and because she could feel herself unkinking every time she stepped into the building. And if the snacks seemed to last a lot longer, and there were more of everything around… well, that never hurt anyone either, and she barely spent her allowance as it was.

 

She scooted inside without lingering, pulling the door shut behind her. There was music coming from the inside of the place, so she wasted little time in tugging on her dance gear and making for it. When she scooted into the smaller studio it was coming from though, it hit her what was actually playing, and she stumbled to a halt. She had only once heard classical music here before, and it had been as part of a ballet group hiring space in the studio. This… this wasn’t ballet music. This was the kind that twisted her up inside whilst her body straightened like a well-trained dog.

 

Swallowing, she crept forward and peeked into the studio. It wasn’t too tremendously loud, but Hobi-oppa was there talking to the most beautiful man she had ever seen as they slowly went through the movements of a dance of some sort. The newcomer was quite tall, had a model’s build and the loveliest laugh, a totally unashamed sound that splattered brightly across the world. She stood on the lintel as if nailed down there, and it wasn’t until they moved that she saw the kid curled up in the corner.

 

He wasn’t too old; he looked several years younger than her, and he was staring down at a very expensive phone, thumbs moving as he played something. What fascinated her was that he wasn’t looking at it as he played, but the opposite wall instead, and in her fascination she forgot to be nauseous. She watched as his lips trembled as he played, eyes trembling in a back-and-forth saccade as if he saw information on the wall no one else did.

 

“…so I thought that we might bring him here every now and then to see if he likes it,” the unknown man said to Hobi-oppa. “So far it’s only music that seems to be keeping him awake, and he’s taken to dance. Jungkook and Jiminie have shown him a few things, but they have their jobs too, and it’s the only language that he seems willing to speak. The rest of it is like it’s just not clicking, like it’s some kind of code…”

 

Sora, who had been staring at the boy’s lips as if spellbound, felt something deep inside herself click. It _was_ code, she realised, but not the way the man had likely meant it. The catch was in the boy’s thumbs on the screen, the rhythm they tapped at, the words his lips shaped, even the way his eyes darted back and forth slightly. “It’s not code,” stumbled from her lips before she thought to censor herself.

 

When the man turned around he was even more beautiful, and for just a moment Hobi-oppa faded away. His features were so idealised and perfect she felt her throat clamp up. To save herself from that kind of appraisal she tore her eyes away and looked at the boy again, who lifted his head slowly to stare at her.

 

“Sora-ya…” Hobi-oppa began, and his familiar voice pulled her down from the panic she could feel through her veins. “What are you talking about?”

 

She swallowed, ducking her head again. “He’s not speaking in code,” she managed to whisper out, seeing their shapes in the mirror but keeping her eyes on the kid’s hands. “It’s an aria from Strauss’ ‘Der Rosenkavalier’. He’s saying the notes, and his thumbs are indicating pitch, but it’s his eye movements – he’s tracking the various different instruments in the orchestra.” She managed to look at the boy again, trying to concentrate. “He’s in the conductor’s chair signalling all the instruments.”

 

The boy stopped his movement and smiled sweetly at her, slightly too-long hair tumbling into his eyes as he tilted his head back. “Sophie,” he said quite clearly, and the look on his face wrung at her heart. It had been so long since she had been happy listening to music like that, it was difficult seeing someone enjoy it that much.

 

She broke and spun on her heel, racing away from the door and her memories of aching hours being forced to dance and sing, dance and sing as if she were Olympia in truth.

 

===========================================

 

The video going viral changed everything for the Seventeen boys. When they uploaded a video the next day of the rest of the members doing games and punishments whilst they were at the salon, that got just as many views, and fanclubs started popping up where they had not expected them before, taking any measure of privacy they might have had with them. It wasn’t too bad, the girls couldn’t get into any of the buildings they worked or slept in, but it signalled a sea change for them. They were filmed more often, had to think about what they said more in-depth, and their work ramped up.

 

Soonyoung sat down in front of the mirrors in the darkened practice studio in Pledis’ building, slowly panting as he tried to cool down from his last dancing session. He had eaten way too much that day, having been out with the members in a filmed location, and the energy that surged through him was difficult to ignore. Added to that the cupcakes the kids at Hobi- _hyung_ ’s studio shared with him, and he felt as if he wanted to explode, really.

 

Hearing the door quietly click open, then shut, he tilted his head to the small form moving through the gloom to him. It was a thing of beauty to see Jihoon wander to him, only able to track him by the occasional flashes of equipment lights over his skin. He felt more than saw him as he settled down in front of himself.

 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Jihoon eventually said. “I thought you might be up after earlier.”

 

Soonyoung managed a smile, though he started as a hand met his in the dark and twisted it palm-up, putting a small box down in it.

 

“Happy birthday,” Jihoon murmured, voice even quieter.

 

With a start Soonyoung realised he had forgotten it was his birthday. Making a low noise deep in his throat he pulled out his phone and turned the flash on so that he had light enough to unwrap it. Whilst it looked silver, and had a scaled pattern on it, the way it thrummed against his fingertips with a cool, misty sensation said it wasn’t just metal.

 

“It’s made from scales,” Jihoon explained, apparently reading his mind. “Tiny ones from my other form. I got it done whilst we were in Busan, but I only got it back yesterday. It doesn’t do much, but when you concentrate on it, you’ll always know where I am. Because you always…”

 

“Because I always worry,” Soonyoung whispered, sliding it onto his right middle finger, where it seemed to snuggle down and grow close to his flesh. “Thank you, Jihoonie – it’s not the kind of present that I was expecting. I wasn’t expecting anything, really, although I was kind of hoping.”

 

Jihoon’s breathing slowed, became a sigh that gushed out. “I was not going to buy you dinner, you barely touch it these days as it is.”

 

Soonyoung grinned into the dark. “I wanted a kiss. A real one this time.”

 

Jihoon’s presence might as well have disappeared, he became that still. Softly at first, then louder, came the sound of laughter. “You’re as bad as Seungcheol- _hyung_ when it comes to wanting affection,” he accused gently. “With all the cameras around these days, and that ShowCa performance coming up…”

 

Soonyoung reached out to take Jihoon’s hands, pulled him slowly closer and tilting his head a little, palms moving to cup his small face. Very gently, because he wanted to, not because he didn’t feel his heart racing, he kissed Jihoon square on the lips, taking it slowly and easily. It wasn’t quite as much of a shock as the other time, so he spent his time enjoying the taste of coffee on them, the way one small hand moved to rest on his knee, the way he could feel him leaning closer without having to hold him captive.

 

Long moments later when his breath raced again, he pulled back, smoothing a thumb over the curve of one smooth cheekbone. The ring pulsed as it contacted the warm skin, and he felt a vague awareness in the back of his head. It felt healthy and happy and tingly almost, and it made him grin. They could take it slowly for now. “Jihoonie,” he murmured. “That song you played for me once. The one I couldn’t give you an answer to then.”

 

Jihoon sighed and leant in a little further, turning to slump at his side. “What about it?” he finally asked. “It’s not quite done yet.”

 

Soonyoung stared into the darkness, concentrating on the feeling of coolness on his finger. “Do you think I might be able to make things simpler for you one day?”

 

“Idiot,” Jihoon’s voice came, and he reached out to hold Soonyoung’s hand diffidently. “You already do.”


	27. Chapter 27

Minghao smiled at the camera as Soonyoung- _hyung_ acted sexy in a parody of his performance in the salon, but inwardly he felt restless and insecure. The fights with Jun- _hyung_ had been dragging on for over a week now, and the harsh reprimand he had gotten the other morning still stung. Even though they had years of fighting behind them, there had been something acrimonious about the newest series of them.

 

He shouldn’t have shown him the tattoo, should have kept that part of the bargain secret. When Jun had dragged him to Jiminie- _hyung_ for assistance in getting it removed, he had (metaphorically at least) put his foot down and absolutely refused, and things had exploded. Whilst Jun raged on one side, Jiminie- _hyung_ had looked him straight in the eye and through them into his soul, where he had found … well, he didn’t know what, but it had caused him to come down on Minghao’s side of the argument.

 

They were blabbering on in Korean again, and he only caught one word in every four. He made up for it with a nod here and there when the other did, and cast his eyes over the crowd. Something was tickling inside him, something he didn’t feel comfortable with. It felt almost exactly like he had accidentally stepped onto a spider web and he could feel the spider coming closer.

 

He could…

 

It was just a quick flutter out of the corner of his eye, but as they passed a reflective surface he saw a small face look at him in it. It had lasted just long enough for him to see odd brown eyes, then a scuffed sweater that look like Chan's scurrying away, and he _knew_.

 

“Bathroom,” he mumbled to Seungmin- _hyung_ as they passed it. His _hyung_ , harried, nodded and motioned him on. He took a moment or two to wash his hands, slipped out and around, ending up tucked into what appeared a small, dead corner of the building. It was ugly, which was likely why there were large potted plant containers in front of it, but they helped to conceal him. Seconds later a small, very delicate form slipped in there with him, bowing deeply.

 

Minghao bowed back, giving Chan’s quiet girl the respect she deserved.

 

“They found out about him,” she said without preamble. “They’re coming. I can buy you maybe a minute at the exit.”

 

Minghao didn’t stay to question her. He turned and ran, running faster than he ever had in his life, and caught up with a rush of people at the exit, all wanting to get out after the show. He had to fight to get through, and he saw the group split, going towards the two vans. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he managed to get to the van in time, just as Jun stepped up to enter it.

 

It was such a small chip of sound as he called up a gust of wind from sheer desperation, pushing Jun into it. The second bullet caught him on the shoulder blade, and if he hadn’t had protective wards on himself he would have felt it crash through his lung.

 

“Stop pushing, Hao-hao,” Jun scolded, turning around to glare at him. “I’m moving…”

 

Minghao’s mouth opened as he felt the bullet sizzle to a stop, then start boring again, exploding in his chest like fireworks at a lunar festival. It robbed him of words; instead, his breath punched out of him with a bright spray of blood. He barely remained conscious long enough to fall forward, hearing tyres as the van started driving. Someone was screaming, shrill and unpleasant, and he felt hands press down hard on his back. Above it all he felt the binding on his foot sizzle and thump, sizzle and thump like a slow, steady heartbeat. The pain caused him to black out. 

 

===================================================

 

Sora hadn’t quite known what to expect when her mother called her at school to let her know she’d not be going to either activities or her school, but that she should hurry home. When their driver dropped her off at home she took a shower and obediently got dressed in the clothes laid out on her bed, slipping on the heels she hated before she made her way downstairs. There was definitely company there, given that she could hear the quiet clinking of cups and hum of conversation from her mother’s solar.

 

Murmuring her apologies, she bowed immediately upon entry, catching only a faint glimpse of the visitors. “Please pardon my tardiness,” she murmured in the smooth, calm voice her mother preferred.

 

“Ah, Sora!” Her mother gave a hearty laugh. “I bet it was traffic again, wasn’t it? Honestly, the streets these days. Come here so that I can introduce you to our guests.”

 

Sora straightened and ambled closer. When she saw the people seated on the too-prim couch she nearly fell flat on her face. The Kim Areum sat casually dressed in a Gucci dress, looking impeccable, and next to her the man she had run away from a few days ago at Hobi-oppa’s studio. She opened her mouth, shut it with a click of teeth and bowed again. “A pleasure to meet you, I am Choi Sora. It is a privilege meeting you,” she muttered woodenly, praying not to fall on her face. If these people were here, it means that her mother had found out about the studio, about everything…

 

“My dear, this is the president of the art foundation Mommy’s on,” her mother cooed. “Kim Areum-ssi, and her son, Kim Seokjin-ssi. He has recently returned from overseas studies.”

 

“What a beautiful child, Choi Bomi-ssi,” Kim Areum said. “Such pretty manners. She is a credit to your education – don’t you think so, Seokjin?”

 

Sora felt like a hunted bird as she looked up at the beautiful, _beautiful_ man on the couch.

 

“Indeed,” he murmured. “It’s such a pleasure meeting you, Choi Sora-ssi.”

 

“Why don’t you go and show Seokjin-ssi the gardens, my dear? Mommy needs to talk about the foundation,” her mother cooed again, fake voice sickening.

 

Trapped, Sora had little choice but to stand and lead the way to the gardens, wandering out into them with Seokjin-ssi at her side.

 

“Wow,” he said after some time. “Your mother is a piece of work, Sora-ssi. I’m sorry to have to ambush you in your own home, but you ran away so precipitously I didn’t have a chance to ask you what you meant the other night…”

 

“Is this… is this some kind of marriage meeting?” she interrupted, sick to the pit of her stomach. “Is she trying to marry me off already?”

 

Seokjin snapped his mouth shut and stared at her as the jolly expression he had on disappeared. “She went to great lengths to tell us all about your talent and incipient career on the stage, so not immediately, I hazard. It’s going to be difficult though, I’m already married. Sora-ssi… Sora-ssi, you’re not happy here, are you? Hobi-ah didn’t want to breach any confidences, so I had to ask the queen to help me. Please, I’m kind of at the end of my rope. Can I just talk to you at least?

 

 _Sehunie_.

 

Sora swallowed and craned her neck towards the house to look at the two women chatting before she nodded to a bench and sat down on it. “Is he the boy I saw the other night? The one with the aria?”

 

Seokjin nodded. “You’re the first one he’s spoken to outside of the immediate family,” he explained quietly. “He’s brilliant, but he doesn’t communicate in the same way most people do. It’s like he grasps the concept of language, and I’ve seen him churn out theories and research papers, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t _communicate_. I don’t think he even knows that what we say when I call his name is anything more than a noise to him. And yet, within moments of seeing him, you got him to talk to you.”

 

“I… but the thing is, he is speaking,” Sora said with difficulty. “He was singing, even though there was no sound to it, and he called me Sophie, which was the character that sung the part he was thinking of. What kind of music have you exposed him to so far?”

 

Seokjin puffed out his cheeks. “Well, I thought he was interested in dance, and my sons have danced with him, and he normally pays attention when Hobi-ah dances, so… modern and contemporary music, mostly. He listens, and he dances with clumsily, but nothing like your kind of music, I would say. I like opera myself, but I rarely listen to it in the house, just at concerts, and my husband is a person that generally enjoys music without accompaniment.” He took a deep breath. “But you’re a singer.”

 

She reared back, loathe with revulsion, curling her palms into her dress’ hem.

 

“Please,” he said very quietly. “Please teach Sehunie how to come back to us.”

 

It sounded like a request, her mind tried to rationalise, but the fear in her heart got the better of her. This man had the power to ruin _everything_ if she didn’t help.

 

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

 

========================================================

 

 _Jiminie-hyung!_ It was a mental screech in the aether, loud enough to rock Jimin off his feet as he exited an elevator. _Jiminie-hyung, help, please help!_

 

The force of it, the desperation, rang loud and clear, and unexpected. _Seungkwanie? Is that you? What’s wrong? Where are you?_

 

_We’re in our van heading towards the hospital. Minghao-hyung’s been shot, but it won’t stop bleeding. Something’s really wrong._

 

Jimin felt dread coil through his bones. _Get everyone out of the back seat,_ he ordered. _Fifteen seconds._ It wasn’t something he ever had before, but…

 

Movement, travel, a circle of worried eyes. The boys were scrunched into the side seats, whilst Minghao-ah was awkwardly draped over the front row of passenger seats, and Jun-ah leant over him, pouring a small sun’s worth of power into his fading aura. It was keeping him alive, but barely; the Cantonese boy was shuddering and sweating from the effort, dipping perilously close to life energy. He scooted out of the seats, felt more than saw faces pass him by as they made space for him, and he landed on his knees next to Jun.

 

“Get to the complex!” he called to the driver. “Seungcheol-ah!”

 

“Got it!” the leader shouted, and started passing on directions.

 

“Jun-ah,” Jimin said very gently.

 

“It’s a mage-killer, I think,” the boy ground out. “All I know is he pushed me into the van, jerked and fell over.”

 

Jimin wanted to blink. Of all the nastiness he had come across on his years on this earth, a mage-killer wasn’t part of it, but there was no time to waste. Taking over the kid’s position he started reviving the aura. It felt like pouring power into an infinite well, and he could sense the boy’s soul loosening, starting to slip through the channel the tattoo on his foot had carved. The bump-bump as they crossed the Han river caused another gusher to open up. “Shit,” he gritted out, frightened into cursing. “Shit, shit, _shit._ Who’s got the smallest hands here?”

 

Chan scrambled up without being prompted, half-slipping in the pool of blood before he managed to steady himself. “Me, _hyung_ , Jihoon-ah is in the other van.”

 

“Pinch this,” Jimin ordered, leading his fingers into the wound. “There. Feel that hole whistling? Pinch it closed. Don’t tug too hard or you’ll rip out a piece of lung.”

 

Behind him somewhere, he heard Soonyoung gag at the squelching sounds as he began to extract metal fragments from the wound. He paid it no more attention than hearing it. “Jun-ah,” he said. “Tell him not to die. Order him not to.”

 

“ _Hyung_?” Jun questioned.

 

“You have a leash on his soul, Jun-ah. Just do it!”

 

=====================================================

 

Sora had barely said yes before Kim Seokjin lifted his head like a hunting hound, looking harried before he… he disappeared? She waited a few moments, cautiously waved one hand through the space he had been, and had to acknowledge that he had indeed disappeared. Getting up, she wandered back and slipped into the house, surprising the two ladies. “Ah… Seokjin-ssi had to get back to work,” she said lamely, bowing to the strange woman. “But I’ve accepted his, um, proposal.”

 

Seconds later, when it occurred to her what she said, she wanted to smack herself silly. Her mother’s expression seemed transposed to joy, whilst the other woman’s shut down.

 

“Wonderful!” her mother crowed. “Perhaps we can arrange it for just after your graduation… yes, yes, I think so! That will give you plenty of time to start fulfilling your familial obligations whilst you study. I do think…”

 

“I wonder,” the other woman interposed. “Since it’ll take some time to get the paperwork drawn up correctly, would you lend me Sora for the rest of today so that I can get to know my prospective daughter-in-law? Perhaps I could take her home, show her the location and the family register, introduce her to the duties that’ll be hers?”

 

Sora’s mother blinked, but nodded eagerly. “Quite. I’ll get those portfolios to you by tomorrow, Kim Areum-ssi? Or… Areum-ssi, if I might presume?”

 

The woman’s smile was all teeth and no mirth, but Sora’s mother was too happy to see that. Still, her hold on Sora’s arm was delicate. It was only once they were outside, in the car, when she breathed out explosively. “Your mother is a nightmare,” she said bluntly. “And I hope you know that Seokjin-ah is married, girl.”

 

“I do,” Sora answered quietly, wishing only for the nightmare of the day to end. “I’ll set her straight tonight. I was talking about helping him with his kid. The one having problems.”

 

"They're all troublesome. Which one?" the lady asked very ironically before she settled in, and Sora just didn't have an answer for her.

 

It was a drive of only a few minutes, and they arrived outside what looked like Seoul National Park amidst the scene of some chaos. There was a van with boys spilling out of it, very _familiar_ boys, most of them trailing blood onto the gravel, with one being carried out by what looked like Seokjin-ssi, and a totally bloody Jimin-ssi standing there, and then the woman had jumped out of the car, and a man even more beautiful than Seokjin-ssi showed up with a thunderclap, and things got _very weird._ Very weird indeed, leaving her to stand there somewhat like the odd banana out in the fruit display.

 

She watched as another van skittered up, more boys got out, and then things kind of got out of hand. Trailing behind, she had an excellent view of what looked like a woman formed out of smoke spinning out of nothing with a sword held aloft. Her eyes widened as she saw pretty, pretty Jeonghan-oppa turning at the hiss of it, saw him shout a warning to the gentle boy at his side. She saw her limbs move, and she felt her hands impact against the gentle boy’s back, pushing him out of the way of the scything blow.

 

 _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ _What am I doing? Why am I not running away?_ _I have to help him, I have to help..._

 

Her thoughts struggled to think that thought as the thin line of pain curled down her side. The woman with the feather dress cursed and spun away as she slowly fell forward, thumping into the gravel. Her forehead impacted with a thump.

 

===================================================

 

It was a mere whisper of sound behind Jeonghan, a tickle in his mind rather than his ears. A familiar thought pattern at least, one that caused him to spin on his heel. He stared, wide-eyed, as the woman that had tortured Hansol once upon a time spun into being behind Jisoo, who had tarried only to grab his cellphone and lock the van up. Even as he saw the sword glint into being he knew he had no way of saving him. Everyone was busy, there was no one he could call upon, no minds nearby he might scream at.

 

_I love him. I love Hong Jisoo… oh my god, not him, please, help... someone help!_

 

The thought rocked through him as he stared at Jisoo’s gentle smile; he was unaware of the blow, it seemed, and he would watch him die, Hong Jisoo would _die_ and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

He opened his mouth to scream a warning, and it seemed that there was a god out there watching over them after all, because with a twist of hips and a preternatural expression of grace, a girl spun into the small space between Jisoo and the sword, pushing him roughly out of the way. She was tall enough that the sword didn’t get past her. Instead, with a flick of red, the sword flensed her back open instead of Jisoo’s, and the woman with the sword cursed and disappeared. He watched the girl fall forward onto the gravel, still utterly silent.

 

 _I can’t hear her,_ his mind gibbered. _Who is it? How did she know?_ _I can’t hear her…_

 

He stumbled forward past Jisoo to check on her, saw the line of blood well through the dark hair he had admired, and knew whose face he would see if he turned her head.

 

====================================================

 

The apartment was a madhouse, full of people trying to heal other people, others shouting, boys cowering, three huge cats demanding attention, and a young teenager cowering off in a corner, staring at everyone with large, dark eyes. Into that mess Jeonghan staggered, carrying a bleeding young woman in his arms.

 

“Sophie!”

 

The boy’s shriek cut through the atmosphere as he stormed towards the couple at the door. Jeonghan barely managed to keep on his feet as the boy gave him a sharp kick on his shins for no reason he could see; seconds later Tae- _hyung_ was there to scoop him away and take Sora.

 

“Hobi- _hyung_ is going to fucking _gut_ us,” Tae-hyung got out. “What the hell happened? How did she ever get here?”

 

“I… she pushed me out of the way. There was a woman with a sword, and she pushed me out of the way,” Jisoo stuttered. “I don’t know why. There was just a moment, and then I was falling and she was there, and what the hell is going on? Where did she even come from?”

 

“It was the woman in the feathered dress,” Jeonghan announced as Tae- _hyung_ carried her over to the couch, given that the table had one gravely injured Chinese boy, another one there chattering rapidly to him in Mandarin, and Jiminie- and Jin- _hyung_ , both working furiously to save his life. “She came out of nowhere.”

 

Tae’s face grew still and cold at that, and the atmosphere sunk like a stone. “I’m growing tired of her,” he got out. "Very tired indeed."

 

Seungkwan scooted closer, frowning. “The woman in the feather dress? The one that tortured Hansolie?” He knelt next to the couch, slipping his hand into the girl’s, holding it against her full-body shivers of pain. “Isn’t there something we can do for her?”

 

“Both our healers are busy with Minghao-ah,” the prince explained gently. “Basic rules of triage. She’s not in critical condition – sorry, petal, I know it hurts but you’re not – so unless we want to take her to a hospital it’s best not to move her. Besides, the wound is deep.”

 

“They’ll have to heal her afterwards,” the queen said firmly. “We can’t give back the heir to Choi Heavy Industrials with her back flayed open like that, especially not now that she’s Seokjin’s fiancée.”

 

The room’s conversation ground to a halt. As one, everyone except those busy at the table turned to look at her, eyes wide.


	28. Chapter 28

Sora drifted slowly in and out of consciousness, feeling hands pluck at her. They were gentle, but they were prodding at something that felt like fire down her back. There was someone chanting as well, and she smelled sweet herbs and flowers being passed through the air. The smell made her dizzy, until she didn’t so much wake up as emerge from a rollercoaster, nauseous and over-sensitive. She opened her mouth to ask very nicely for a bowl, but a soft swipe at her back made her scream with pain.

 

“Shit.” The man that was prettier than Seokjin-ssi leant into the field of her vision. He really was gorgeous, all pale eyes and hair like a snow creature, but if she had to look at his extremely good skin a moment longer she’d hurl all over him.

 

“Get her a bowl.” That was Seokjin-ssi.

 

Sora was humiliatingly sick moments later, luckily in said bowl, and it was only afterwards as the really hot stranger washed her mouth and petted her head that she felt a large hand holding hers.

 

“The wound’s infected with some kind of poison.” Another stranger. “It’s causing necrosis. I can barely keep ahead of it.”

 

A voice answered, finally one that she could identify through ringing ears. “It’s a necromantic poison, sunshine. The more energy you use to heal, the more it’s going to eat. You’re going to have to perform an exorcism.”

 

“Bumzu- _oppa_?” she managed to get out through teary eyes. “Bumzu- _oppa_ , what’s going on? Where am I?”

 

A hand moved to rest warm and large on the back of her neck. “I’m here, kiddo. Just be brave a little longer, okay? It’s not long now.”

 

The hand in hers squeezed as another sweep along her back came, and the pain dragged her into unconsciousness. “You lied to her, _hyung_ ,” came faintly, the last words she could understand. “We’re only getting started.”

 

=========================================

 

Most of the large flat had been cleared out the moment Jin- _hyung_ had enough concentration left over to see around him. Insisting that he needed space and calm energy to work, he exiled the boys to empty flats in the compound, the exact same ones they had dressed in previously. With food delivery, they hadn’t needed to go out, and most had been so tired they went to bed immediately. Jun had flatly refused to let Minghao go, choosing instead to share the master bed with him and a curled-up Chan.

 

Jeonghan, one of the last ones awake, sat staring at the TV, slowly biting at his thumb in an action that’d make the stylists shriek. He couldn’t give a damn about them. Over and over he saw the blow fall over Jisoo. Over and over Sora jumped in between, pushing him roughly out of the way. How did you thank someone that saved someone precious? How the fuck had he not realised that what he felt for the American boy was far more than just a fleeting sexual attraction to spice up their friendship?

 

He nearly fell off the couch from the tension as Kookie- _hyung_ entered the apartment. “Is she…?”

 

Jungkook shook his head. “I need Jun-ah to come with me. Jin- _hyung_ and Jiminie are too tired to perform miracles, so they need all the help they can get. It’s not looking good.”

 

Jeonghan nodded and jumped up to go and fetch him. It took some time to persuade Jun to let go of the slumbering boy. As they left, Jeonghan tagged along, sidling into the main flat and trying not to grimace at what he saw. Someone had laid out a ritual space around the living room table, with what looked like _mudang_ talismans at each of the directions, and the smell of sage was thick in the air. The girl lay on her front on the table, entire back bare and hair moved out of the way, allowing him to see the wound. It was an ugly thing; where it would have sliced in next to Jisoo’s shoulder and cleft him in half, Sora’s forward motion had caused it to slide instead, bumping off one of her vertebrae to sever a wide flap of skin in a crescent shape down her back.

 

“Jun-ah,” Jin- _hyung_ called. “We’re dealing with a poison here. Yoongi’s identified it as necrotic in nature, coming from the Land of the Dead. It’s soaking up all we can do and moving faster. Can you see if you can perform a…”

 

Jun moved, cutting him off, and stepped into the ritual space without fear. He leant down, as if he had seen countless bodies, and pressed against the black streaks radiating from the wound, sniffing at it. Looking right, then left, he slammed his hands together and separated them. “Is it going after the higher chakras?” he asked as an array of characters materialised and sunk into the girl’s flesh as she moaned weakly.

 

“Yes,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said, looking tired. He wasn’t looking like himself; instead, a golden-eyed, golden-haired man had taken his place, and he firmly had the girl’s skull between his hands. “I’m barely keeping her spirit anchored as it is. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

 

Jeonghan watched as Jun did _something_. It seemed to be a droning, repetitive noise of some sort, filled with odd swoops of his voice that he didn’t think even a girl should be able to pull off. The girl started thrashing, but they held her down, one person to a side, until something that looked sickly and grey seeped out of her wound. It balled up before Jun- _hyung_ , trying to escape, but he allowed it no such reprieve, and somehow compressed it smaller and smaller until it disappeared.

 

It was as if the energy in the room took a deep breath and surged forward, like a car that couldn’t start that suddenly did. Another scream, this time as Jin- _hyung_ healed the wound with a sizzle of flesh that smelled nauseatingly like pork belly. Jeonghan wanted to cry – it wasn’t until now that he truly understood what Seungkwan felt like pulling Hansol into a bad situation.

 

“We can’t send her back to her home tonight,” Jin- _hyung_ said softly. “You saw her condition, Jiminie. Her body’s on the edge of stress-induced failure, she’s malnourished and frankly, I’d rather have a pit viper for a mother than that woman.”

 

The boy in the corner of the room piped up, shocking everyone. “Sophie can sleep with me,” he offered in a voice that cracked and warbled between soprano and a light tenor. “I can watch her. I won’t fall asleep, I promise.”

 

“Sehunie…?” Jin- _hyung_ got out with a tired, cracked voice. “How are you even speaking?”

 

The boy – Sehunie? – blinked at him with large eyes that reminded unnervingly of Kookie- _hyung_ ’s, and stayed silent.

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ stepped away and slowly faded back to his normal self. “It happens sometimes,” he gently told Jin- _hyung_. “Just give it time. He’s got something to focus on now. It’s slow coming back from the kind of injury he sustained emotionally, even if you healed him as well.”

 

“I…” Jeonghan said.

 

“Motherfucker!”

 

He had _never_ heard Jin- _hyung_ curse like that, nor jump from shock as if he hadn’t realised Jeonghan was in the room. Paling, he pressed his back against the wall. “I can watch her. I can’t sleep anyway. I’ll watch them both.”

 

Jin- _hyung_ turned away, clearly too tired to be mannerly, and Jiminie- _hyung_ likewise, but Yoongi- _hyung_ nodded and directed Kookie- _hyung_ to pick Sora up. The boy led the way to his bed, pulling the blankets back. Waiting only until she was there, he curled up under the duvet but on top of the sheet, curling around the girl’s hand as if she were some sort of life-sized teddy-bear. Jeonghan, dry-eyed, settled in to watch.

 

=========================================

 

To Seungkwan, it felt as if the world had quietly agreed that yesterday hadn’t happened when he woke up to Seungmin- _hyung_ collecting them for the next day’s activities, and if he hadn’t known Kookie- _hyung_ and Tae- _hyung_ were with them, albeit invisibly, he would have shifted very reluctantly. They didn’t get to see the girl, though Jeonghan- _hyung_ returned to them, and somehow everything felt as if suspended by magic, delicate and prone to tearing if anyone breathed the wrong way.

 

The stylists had a lot to say about them appearing in the same outfits they had left in, but for once Seungcheol- _hyung_ stared them down quietly but politely. From what Seungkwan could see of the outside, Jeonghan- _hyung_ had completely fallen apart overnight sometime, and spent most of the morning staring sightlessly at the mirror as the noona did his hair and makeup. Likewise, Jisoo- _hyung_ wasn’t even pretending to be his normal, polite self. The band was down two leaders, and everyone felt it.

 

Minghao- _hyung_ simply didn’t speak. The Chinese boy, looking more delicate than ever, went around under Jun- _hyung_ ’s watchful eye, and said nothing.

 

Around two, with all of them done with the shoot it was Soonyoung- _hyung_ that passed the news that they would be having a meeting in their practice room at the Pledis building, and that Seungcheol- _hyung_ had requested everyone make it by four. When they got there, they were met by a circle of takeaway in the middle of the floor. There were pillows there, liberated from who knows where. He sat down on one, felt Mingyu- _hyung_ sit down on one side and Chan on the other, and kept his head down, concentrating on the _doshirak_ selection.

 

“We’re having this out once and for all,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ said as he sat down. “Yesterday, two of our members nearly died. It was nothing short of a miracle that there was someone around to heal Minghao-ah. Not only that, but someone got injured badly saving one of our own. We got off lucky, very lucky. It’s beginning to affect our careers though. We can’t expect Seungmin- _hyung_ to cover for us all the time, or even Yoongi- _hyung_. So I asked all of you here to ask if you still want to be idols, so that we can decide now before we really disappoint a lot of fans, and so that we can decide what to do.”

 

Jun sat forward slightly, looking at Minghao before he cleared his throat. “I’d like to explain a few things about the situation before we get started. It’s information I’ve not shared until now, but you’re right, _hyung_ , this is starting to affect all of us.”

 

“All of you have seen that there is a supernatural element to life now. Areum-yeosang keeps her lands well, and dispenses justice as well. Back home it’s another matter. There are numerous courts that come together in the Forbidden Palace to decide on the fate of China’s supernaturals, as no one has ever been strong enough to dominate absolutely. My family, the Wen clan, have been Nuo exorcists and participants in the affairs of the court for the past four thousand years or so. There are other clans affiliated to us, like Minghao-ah’s Xu clan, who are sorcerors for lack of a better word. These alliances go back forever as well.”

 

“Over the years, my clan has come to spearhead a significant fraction of the voices at the court, mostly through the kind of politics I don’t even want to think about. We’re certainly not saints. Regardless, we have enemies as well and everything’s balanced on a hair trigger that somehow works, like a nuclear cold war. That only works if the families stay strong though, and in the last generation… that simply hasn’t been the case.”

 

“The heirs didn’t get along,” Minghao-ah said quietly, voice whisper-thin. “I did not want to accept my place sworn to his side, so I did everything I could to make the deal sour, to make it miserable for him to be around. Around two years ago, Jun-ah ran away from court and came here. They managed to put around the story that he had died, and went into a sort of ritual mourning to buy a little time. The elders were not pleased with me, but I managed to survive. Something happened back here though, round about a year and a bit ago, to arouse suspicion. The balance of power shifted. Everyone, who had been looking down upon the South Koreans since forever, became afraid of them instead. There were omens, not particularly pleasant ones.”

 

He took a deep breath. “By that time, about a year had passed since Jun- _hyung_ made his way here and managed to audition and become part of the project. We had no communication, and I started to realise that despite having fought against this bond between us for most of my life, it stung. I missed him _fiercely_ , not only because of the politics he used to shelter me against, but just as a friend. When the Wen clan formally came out of mourning for him and talked about sending someone here, I begged them to send me. There was a price but I managed to pay it, and they sent me to safeguard him.”

 

Jun took over again. “He entered the project as well, and for most of a year, things were rather calm, all the way until a few months ago, when events finally culminated just before _Seollal_. An item of great power moved from the Chinese to the Japanese, by way of the court here in Seoul. A significant faction at home didn’t want to give it up, because it was powerful, but a larger number wanted it out, because it’s dangerous. That’s where the Yùlóng come in. They’re a criminal organization much involved in China’s infrastructure, much like you might have seen of the Triads or the Jopoks here. The only distinction was that they are one of the only ones with a foot in both worlds, and they wanted the banner and the power it represented.”

 

“They made a play for it and lost. There were simply too many people that wanted power, and where one play might have succeeded, two of them at the same time did not. Two of the Chinese delegates died at the hands of Areum-yeosang’s justice, and the third was forced to agree that it _was_ justice.”

 

“It was,” Minghao murmured.

 

“I can’t imagine that the Yùlóng were very happy about it all,” Seungcheol murmured.

 

“No,” Jun agreed. “They were not. Although I can’t speculate as to their true motives and plans, generally their revenge is swift and complete. The problem is the people they want to get revenge on are all powerful. I don’t think I can explain how much the _hyung_ s are out of their league. Problem is, in that kind of a situation they go after their families and loved ones to make a point. That’s… us. Unfortunately. I think that’s why Jihoon-ah got attacked, because he looks enough like Yoongi- _hyung_ in a pinch they might have thought that he’s him.”

 

“It was very fast,” Jihoon murmured. “If the girl hadn’t stepped in…”

 

Jun nodded. “Indirectly, we have to thank her for yesterday as well. Minghao-ah, tell them.”

 

Minghao took a deep breath. “She found me at the broadcasting station and warned me that Jun’s cover had been blown. I’m not sure how she knew, but she did. Do you remember how packed it was at the exit of the broadcasting place yesterday?”

 

“It was a crush, _hyung_ ,” Chan said. “Everyone seemed to want to get out at the same time. We had to fight to get out.”

 

“That was her,” Minghao said. “You guys were already so far ahead she could only buy me a little time, so she slowed the crowd down. I don’t know how. But it bought me enough time to get to you lot at the van. I thought we had gotten away safe and clear. I was shot, but I had my protections active, it should not have pained me much at all.”

 

“Unfortunately they shot him with a mage-killer,” Jun explained. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one in ballistic format. Normally they’re weapons made to kill mages, hence the name. It disrupts our energy, throws our systems into disarray. We become more vulnerable than mundanes, because of the spells enchanting the weapons.”

 

“I felt the bullet stop, and then it started again, and exploded inside me,” Minghao said softly. “That’s why I passed out, and that’s why there was all the blood and the… well, the situation after that. Speaking of, Seungkwanie, thank you for calling Jiminie- _hyung_ ; even if you panicked, it was absolutely the right thing to do.”

 

Seungkwan nodded, fingers playing with his chopsticks.

 

“That brings us to the complex,” Seungcheol said. “And there everything went wrong more or less at once.”

 

“The Bride with the White Hair,” Jun said. “Apparently she’s an old enemy of Jin- _hyung_ ’s family, and saw her chance when we blundered around. Not that I’m sure what happened after that.”

 

“It was my fault,” Jeonghan said, voice thin with sorrow. “My fault.”

 

Jisoo reached out to squeeze his hand. “I hung back to make sure our things were locked up safely and to grab my phone and our first aid kit just in case,” he explained. “The woman must have seen her chance and attacked. Yoongi- _hyung_ explained something about warded properties, but I wouldn’t be able to explain it, sorry.”

 

“The complex is warded against attacks and infiltrations,” Minghao supplied. “They’ve learnt from the past few years. It’s the most complex system of wards I’ve seen outside of those at the actual court, or guarding the Divine Gate back in the Forbidden Palace. I doubt a mouse could squeak past it, and an angry spirit definitely couldn’t. So it was an attack of opportunity. I’m not sure why you say it’s your fault though, _hyung_?”

 

“All of you know that he can read minds,” Jisoo explained when Jeonghan fell silent. “However, he found out last night that he can also control them to a certain measure. It’s generally subconscious, but it’s why he’s been able to charm people so much these days, why he always gets so much free stuff.”

 

“I turned around to look for him, because I felt a flicker of something, and I saw her raise her sword to cut Jisoo-ah down. I knew I couldn’t get to him fast enough, and I prayed that something would save him, some sort of miracle, and… that’s when a girl jumped in between. I didn’t know it was her, I didn’t even see her; the queen’s driver had parked on the other side of the van and she was coming around it, and she just jumped. I was so freaking insanely grateful, especially since the woman disappeared, that Jisoo had been saved.”

 

“Oh my god,” Wonwoo got out. “She wasn’t doing it because she wanted to,” he said. “She was compelled to. Somehow you compelled her to do so, _hyung_ , am I right? It makes so much more sense this way around. It bothered me last night – people don’t just do that kind of thing if they’re not attached. She would have been frightened and scared as well, so why didn’t she just run? But she couldn’t run, could she?”

 

“Wonwoo-ah, that’s enough,” Seungcheol murmured as Jeonghan’s head slumped, eyes filling with tears. “Jisoo-ah?”

 

“Wonwoo’s correct,” Jisoo said gently. “In his panic to see me safe, Hannie’s power went looking for someone to see me safe, and found it. She did it because she was compelled to, and she nearly died for it. Not that I am not thankful that she did save my life, and not that Hannie’s to blame either, because he didn’t know he had the power, but there you have it. Yoongi- _hyung_ explained that it’s because of the adrenaline – everything becomes stronger in that moment of shock. Either powers shut down, or they roar awake.”

 

“The Bride’s blade is a heavily enchanted item. She’s not a normal ghost, I think.” Jun added. “If it cuts you, it eats your soul and you go to hell, leaving your body a puppet under her command. We barely managed to save her, especially given how tired they already were getting the bullet’s shards out of Minghao-ah.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Chan murmured. “ _Hyung_ , don’t blame yourself, okay? It sounds like an accident, you couldn’t have known…”

 

Seungkwan swallowed, looking at Hansol, feeling the boy’s eyes on him. “Just because one might not have decided to directly hurt someone, Channie,” he said gently, “doesn’t mean they can’t get hurt, and that you don’t feel guilty. The world is really shitty that way.” He reached out to ruffle the maknae’s hair, smoothing down the stupid duck-butt spike it had at the back.

 

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “That brings up another aspect of this, the powers most of you got. Enough have them that we’re more supernatural as a band than not. Hannie, Jun-ah, Soonyoung-ah, Minghao-ah, then Kwannie and Hansol-ah as well…”

 

“And me,” Jihoon said. “I’m… well. Me too.” He reached out to take one of the doshirak and a can of Coke. “And I’m starving, so sorry if we do this over me eating.”

 

“Everyone should eat,” Seungcheol muttered. “And noted, Jihoon-ah… new discovery?”

 

Jihoon nodded as hands reached for the meal, but most of them were stunned to silence when Chan spoke up.

 

“Um… me too, _hyung_ ,” the maknae got out. “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not… you know. One of the normal folks. At least that’s what Jeon- _harabeonim_ said, and I had horns before…”

 

“Oh my gosh! That’s right!” Seungkwan said. “I forgot almost all about your horns. They were so cute!”

 

Mingyu cleared his throat. “Eight of us?” he said, quickly counting on his fingers before he took a can of soda as well, with the tab snapping off underneath his fingers. “So you guys literally can’t get away from all of this madness.” He eyed the can, lifted a chopstick to force the tab open, before Wonwoo quickly saved them from disaster. “I’ve tried too hard to be an idol to back away now. There has to be another way of dealing with this situation.”

 

“That’s one of the reasons we’re here to talk about it,” Seungcheol confirmed. “Hannie, eat. Mingyu-ah brings up an excellent point. I don’t want to stop being an idol either. I just debuted after six years of training. I can’t conceive any life other than this.”

 

Wonwoo returned the open can to Mingyu. “I have my reasons for wanting to stay as well, but there are practical concerns too. If we stop now, we still have a huge amount of debt to pay off, and no job. That’s not a situation I want to be in. Beyond that, I want to see how far I can take it.”

 

“Whoooosh, whoooooosh~”

 

The members blinked and turned to look at Seokmin, who was making ridiculous airplane noises as he tried to feed Jeonghan- _hyung_. Their sunshine member hadn’t spoken yet, but from the look on his face he hadn’t paid attention to half of it, looking surprised when all of them stared at him.

 

“What?” he asked worriedly. “He has to eat. I don’t want to leave either. We’ve got some crazy clever people around us and we’re all hard workers, so we’ll sort this out, right?” He popped the piece of chicken cutlet into Jeonghan’s mouth, finally successful. “I mean, where else are you going to get talent like this?” He nudged Soonyoung- _hyung_ next to him. “Aegyo, three ways, _hyung_!”

 

Soonyoung’s hand moved so fast to point at his cheek as he puffed it out it was legitimately more supernatural than many things they’ve seen, and he squished his eyes shut and mimed for them. “Hiiiiiiing!” Another, with fingers in wide Vs underneath his eyes, then one holding tufts of his hair up into faux ears.

 

Seungkwan began to laugh hysterically, leaning over his doshirak. “Mecha! You look like a mecha with those ears!”

 

“Just so you know,” Jihoon muttered loftily. “I’m judging all of you extremely hard right now. If the cameras ever look away from Hansol-ah’s meme face, mine will be right there beside his.”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Hansol complained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So this chapter is a two-fer. It was getting so long I had to break it up, and chatting about what they're going to do will continue in the next one. 
>   2. Madam Liàn Níshàng shows up again, or more accurately her sword. Ironically there is something call the Jiangshi virus, which turns you into a hopping vampire. This is something akin to it. 
>   3. Whilst it might not sound like it, there are a lot of necessary nerves and muscle groups very close under the skin in your back. Given that she's a dancer, healing that simply can't be rushed. 
>   4. Jeonghan figures out how his gift is evolving. Just to make it clear, Jin didn't curse at him, he was just tired and jumpy. 
>   5. A long talk. Also, disaster-prone Mingyu. 
>   6. Just for kicks, a picture of Seungkwan and his [Spoon Thing](http://i.imgur.com/r7mY675.jpg). 
> 



	29. Chapter 29

They ate their fill, most of them happy of the pause in the tough conversation, until Hansol passed around the trash bag, collecting the empty trays whilst Chan took care of the empty cans, taking them to the recycling bin. Seungkwan passed along a packet of hand wipes he had gotten from one of the noonas, and the busy-work slowly died down until Seungcheol took a deep breath.

 

“Who actually wants to leave and have the chance for a semi-normal life? Even the supernaturals, I won’t judge and I’m sure there are plenty that live their lives very quietly somewhere.”

 

“…you could likely request diplomatic immunity at the queen’s court if you really want,” Jun added. “All of the supernaturals in Gyeonggi-do live here on her sufferance anyway. Or you could apply to one of the other courts, like Kookie- _hyung_ ’s family. I don’t think they’d turn away anyone either.”

 

Moments passed when no one spoke, though Seungcheol made eye contact with everyone just to be sure. “Okay,” he said with an exhale filled with pure relief. “Okay, so none of us want to leave, which brings us to the point of making sure we can take care of ourselves. I think our dorm is warded enough not to get in…”

 

“…very well warded, _hyung_ ,” Minghao chipped in. “Jun-ah and I set up some basic wards, and after the incident with Jihoon- _hyung_ the other _hyung_ s amped them up a lot. It’s a safe space.”

 

“I’m not very comfortable with this,” Jisoo murmured. “But surely there are families out there who have supernatural members, and those people have to protect their families somehow? Hannie can’t be the only sensitive out there. Do any of those movies have any truth in them, about the talismans and those blessed coins and so on? And how can we protect against this, um, mage-killer thing that hit Minghao-ah? Are there any defenses?”

 

“Loads,” Jun said promptly. “Traditionally, that is where charms and the like come from. There are branches of magic that concentrate primarily on them, and on imbuing ordinary objects with power. It will take some time to make them, and the higher-level talismans depend on supernatural materials. For instance, Namjoon- _hyung_ is a haetae, right? You all saw his scales. Haetae scales are particularly good for protective enchantments. The only thing I can think of that’s better is probably kirin fur, but we’re not going to be able to get our hands on any of _that_.”

 

Mingyu frowned. “Why not, is it that rare?”

 

Jun nodded. “There are very few kirin remaining, and most of them are in Japan. I’ve never seen one myself. To add to that, it has to be fur given freely and not shorn, otherwise it loses its properties. To put it into perspective, a tuft of fur could probably pay our utilities bill here for a year, and that’s if we impressed the kirin enough to have it offered freely.”

 

“Jin- _hyung_ has a coat made of it,” Seungkwan shared. “Jiminie- _hyung_ showed me once, way back in the beginning.” He glanced at Jeonghan. “Remember, _hyung_? When Jin- _hyung_ went through his closet for you?”

 

Jun choked so hard on his soda that Minghao had to smack him on the back. “That’s fucking crazy!” he wheezed.

 

“Language!” Jeonghan reprimanded, showing a flicker of energy. “No cursing. You don’t know when there’s a camera around. I remember, yes. It was beautiful. But we have other options. Perhaps we could ask Namjoon- _hyung_ for some scales, or Kookie- _hyung_ , or…”

 

“You don’t need to ask them,” Jihoon said out loud. “If it’s that kind of thing you want, you can have some of mine. I’m only a minor dragon, I think, an _imugi_ , but they’re there. You guys are my life, of course I’d do it if it helps.”

 

“A minor dragon?” Seungkwan squeaked. “There are major ones too?”

 

Jihoon ducked away as Seungcheol tried to hug the stuffing out of him; Minghao took over the explanation. “A better explanation might be that he’s a…” He broke of, spoke to Jun in rapid-fire Mandarin to check the words. “Oh. A proto-dragon,” he said slowly. “It is the step that come before being a proper dragon. They still have control over the elements, but they do not fly yet unless they find… it is hard to explain. But it is what _hyung_ will become if he survives long enough.”

 

“And he will,” Soonyoung said flatly. “All of us will.”

 

Seokmin smiled his sunshine smile at Jihoon. “Control over the weather, _hyung_? I’d like some nice sunny weather for a while, pleaaase~”

 

“Sure,” Jihoon grumbled, embarrassed and focused on the ground.

 

“Okay,” Seungcheol murmured, bringing the conversation back into line. “So it can be done. We might have to find one for Seungmin- _hyung_ as well, he’s always with us.”

 

“And our families,” Hansol said softly. “These people seem to like collateral damage. We’re getting popular enough that details about our families are becoming public.”

 

Jeonghan took a deep breath. “I’ll have to get better training as well,” he got out. “I refuse to endanger someone else like I got Sora-ssi into trouble.”

 

Seokmin tilted his head. “What happened to her afterwards?” he asked curiously.

 

“She went home very early this morning,” Jeonghan murmured. “Her mother was most insistent, and she was getting really loud. I don’t know beyond that, or this thing with her being affianced to Jin- _hyung_. I hope she’s still okay to act in the video.”

 

“You got her to say yes to the video?” Seungcheol choked. “For Mansae? What the hell were you thinking, Hannie?”

 

“I was thinking that she was a really beautiful girl,” the second-oldest shot back. “And that maybe it might be an opportunity for her that didn’t have to do with her family situation!”

 

“What family situation?” Mingyu asked into the silence that descended. “I’m confused.”

 

Jeonghan sighed softly. “It’s just bad, okay? I couldn’t get the details out of Yoongi- _hyung_ , but I thought if we could show her that there are other options, she might realise that she can live away from her family. Audition for the company, perhaps. She’s got talent, and she definitely has the looks. Not that she’d probably want to do it now, with what I did to her.”

 

“Shhh,” Jisoo muttered, patting Jeonghan’s knee. “We’ll make it right with her.”

 

“I think we should learn some kind of self-defence as well,” Wonwoo said. “Or at least train a bit. Soonyoung- _hyung_ , you’re murder on us with the dancing, so it’s not that we’re not fit, but we could probably learn how to keep people away from us. Not just the crazy supernatural hitmen, but the sasaengs as well. And you should probably sit down Chan’s girl for a long talk, it sounds as if she knows what’s going on.”

 

Chan grumped. “She’s not my girl,” he muttered, looking irritated. “Don’t say things like that. I still don’t know why she doesn’t speak to you guys. I was surprised to hear that she spoke to Minghao- _hyung_.”

 

“She’s a survivor of the Krapow district,” Seungcheol said. “She’s earned the right to speak to no-one at all if she wants to. We’re not going to press someone that’s put their ass on the line for us twice. Let’s just count ourselves lucky that she is watching over us for whatever reason she is. I think we’ve gotten a fair few points out of the way. Let’s talk to Yoongi- _hyung_ and Jiminie- _hyung_ about the protections when next we see them. If we are to stay idols though, we have to work at that. I ideally want one win at least at ShowCa, and we’re scheduled at Inkigayo, MCa and so on. Let’s concentrate on that.”

 

“Why don’t we each do a little self-cam introducing ourselves now and put it up on the fan-café and V-Live? We can talk about what we like, and our ideal types,” Seungkwan suggested. “Maybe we can even put up a poll or a mini-competition, give them a chance to choose our outfits for a performance?”

 

“Yes!” Seokmin enthused. “And maybe a dance practice or two? The other video went viral because we were ourselves and they liked that. No offense, it’s what we debuted with, but I think fans might like a dance practice of ‘Adore U’ more than they like the actual video. Soonyoung- _hyung_?”

 

“I can book one of the larger rooms! Also, Hobi- _hyung_ is arranging a Battle of the Bands, and I think he might have tried to book us. I’ll work on something for us, perhaps throw in a girl group song or two. We can probably get more information out of Seungmin- _hyung_ for that though.”

 

Seungcheol nodded. “I like it. Our next appearance on a show is day after tomorrow, so I’m going to suggest we go back early to the dorm today and catch up with as much study material as we’ve missed. Those of you not in school and not in university yet, please help the younger ones. Otherwise, we deserve a short rest, I think. Jun-ah, Minghao-ah, is there something you can do for the vans for the moment?”

 

Jun shook his head. “Not my area of expertise. I’m an exorcist. Hao-Hao?”

 

“I can do some things,” Minghao promised. “But I have very little energy at the moment, most of it was stripped last night. I know it’s expensive, but perhaps we can catch a few Ubers home? They can’t possibly be watching every car in Seoul. We’ll just have to be quick with getting in and out.”

 

“We’ll do that,” Seungcheol decided. “Okay, fists all in. Let’s do this!”

 

“Fighting!” roared from thirteen throats before they scattered.

 

========================================================

 

“You want to do what?” Seungmin- _hyung_ said blankly, looking at the three young men in front of him.

 

Mingyu looked to Hansol, then Seungcheol. “We want to start working out,” he repeated. “Like in a gym, _hyung_. But it’s so expensive to go to one and we don’t have that kind of money, so I was wondering whether we could take that one small practice room in the basement and convert it into a sort of home gym? There are already showers for the dancers down there, and we were thinking of just a couple of loose weights, maybe some yoga mats and resistance bands for those that want to do that.”

 

“Minghao- _hyung_ was saying something about Pilates,” Hansol confirmed. “It’ll help with core strength and flexibility. It’ll help us by the time the ISACs roll around again as well.”

 

“So we were wondering whether you could maybe source some cheap equipment for us?” Seungcheol said. “We get enough cardio done with dance practices, but if we can add some muscle and endurance training to that, it’ll help us for the stage as well.”

 

Seungmin- _hyung_ shook his head. “I swear someone in this company is some kind of mind reader,” he grumbled. “After School and Pristin lodged a request with their manager as well, though in their case it’s because people stared at them too much at a normal gym. I had been about to ask whether you guys were interested as well.”

 

“Aheh,” Seungcheol laughed weakly. “Mind-reading… what a concept. We’re very interested! Are all the bands going to pool together to outfit one? Can we get a bigger one then?”

 

“Maybe,” Seungmin- _hyung_ murmured, making a note. “We’ll see. I’ll have a chat with the other managers. For now, I’ve got your schedule for the next few weeks. You’re booked pretty solid on music shows, but two weeks from now there’s a new event being scheduled in, a band battle at Jung Hoseok’s dance studio. The proceeds are going to charity, and all our bands will be there, plus some from other companies.” He paused. “The managers have a pool to see whose band comes out on top. No one from the Big Three, but some from other companies.”

 

Mingyu grinned widely. “Say no more, _hyung_! We’ll win that honour for you!”

 

Three days later they had their gym, even if only the bare-bones version whilst the big one was being set up.

 

========================================================

 

Jun eyed the phone as it rang, tempted not to answer, but his father wasn’t a man that normally made contact, so he dragged himself over to it and answered, trying to find a position his muscles didn’t complain in.

 

“Honoured father,” he murmured, trying to stifle a yawn. “It’s late, is everything okay?”

 

His father sighed. “I should be asking you that,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Xu Yu Yan contacted me and said that Minghao’s binding almost kicked off.”

 

It was odd how anger could still flame from that. “The situation was handled,” he said. “Thanks to some good healers around. I SMSed our group about this.”

 

“I know. That is not why I am calling. Son…”

 

Jun’s anger depleted a little at the sound of worry in his father’s voice. “What is it?” he asked gently. “Something happened, I can tell from your tone of voice.”

 

“Yao Li Hui was killed early this morning in his house,” his father said. “Given that his wife was one of the Yùlóng generals, it’s only logical to presume that he was involved as well. In addition to that, four highly placed government officials were found equally dead, two in the Interior, one in the Foreign department, and one part of the Exchequer, and those I can guarantee you were on their payroll. It’s as noisy as a beehive here, but the wasp got away. My informants tell me that the successors are trying to engage the services of Moon.”

 

Feeling gut-punched, Jun rolled onto his front, pinching his eyes shut. Greatest of the Four Immortal Kings, no one knew much about Moon, except that no one knew what he looked like, or what motivated him to be an assassin, or even how old he was. No-one _survived_.  “How much time do we have?”

 

His father hmmed. “Perhaps a month or so, until a clear successor steps up. Do your best. We are sending your brother into the mountains. He wants to say goodbye.”

 

Jun swallowed, waiting until he heard his brother fumble the telephone to his ears. “Sai lou,” he murmured. “Little prince, you’re going to be brave, right?” he asked. “You have to be, for father and mother and myself.”

 

“I will,” his brother’s voice piped up. “If something happens to mom and dad…?”

 

“I’ll come and get you,” he promised quietly but fiercely. “I’ll come with Minghao and find you.”

 

“Okay,” his brother said, clearly trying not to cry. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

The phone connection clicked dead. Jun wiped at his face to catch the tears that wanted to fall, and rolled over to press his face into Minghao’s thin shoulder. A hand came to settle on his hair as he shuddered with the desire not to cry, and when he failed the other half of his life pulled him closer with thin, strong arms.

 

========================================================

 

A week passed in the blink of an eye and Chan didn’t see a blink of the girl that had gotten into the business of saving their lives, though he carried a cup out every morning in the hope that she would show up. At first he was scared for her, then he just missed her, and by the time he landed up in the studio again after a week of music shows and fan-signs, not to mention demented practice, he was feeling tired and sulky, almost as bad as he had in that bad stretch before he met her. There were tensions between the _hyung_ s, or at least most of them, and he really didn’t feel like sitting around whilst Vernon- _hyung_ looked cow-eyed as he wrote lyrics that were obviously, _totally_ not about Seungkwan- _hyung_.

 

He grabbed his schoolwork and wound down to the tiny gym set up in the basement. It was the saddest room he had ever seen, but there were plenty of mirrors and the lights were good, and the best was that it was empty this late at night. Building a fort out of the thin yoga mats with a backing of weights, he flipped open his literature work and started slow stretches, concentrating more on the movement than a top workout.

 

Slowly he relaxed, mind in an odd Zen zone between working on the stroke order of his characters and working on his joints. He wasn’t sure how much later it was when a tiny hand put down a bottle of water and a peanut energy bar next to his books, but when he looked his girl was perched there, squatting easily. She looked… she looked tired as hell, but her eyes were a little brighter and her hair not quite as dull.

 

“Eat,” she ordered, nudging the bar closer to him.

 

Obediently he rolled to a sitting position and pulled the peanut butter bar closer, shuffling aside to make space for her in the fort. She didn’t even need that much; when she settled next to him he had plenty of room to move over. Something prompted him to stay, given the way she seemed to soak up heat from him. “Can we share this?” he asked of the bar, nibbling at one end of it.

 

The girl shook her head. “Wrong stuff. The person that you told me to trust gave me a long list of stuff that could make me sick. I check.” As if to offer proof, she pulled out a list written with cramped little Chinese characters, paper worn thin from handling. Moments later it disappeared and she pulled her legs up to balance her chin on them. Like that, she was even smaller.

 

“I am sorry for poisoning you,” Chan said. “I really didn’t know.”

 

She grumbled something, then tilted sideways to lean into his shoulder.

 

For a few seconds he didn’t know what to do. Very carefully, so that she could pull away, he lifted an arm to drape across her back, and guiltily soaked in the feel of having a girl in his arms. She wasn’t as hot as Sora-ssi and he didn’t have those kinds of feelings towards her, but somehow it made her all the more real to him. No matter how the others might tease, no matter how he might grouch, she _was_ his girl. His fingers settled on her shoulder, then lifted to prop itself gently around, pulling her into him for a slow hug. Slow worked with her and he had a good idea how disastrous it would be to press fast.

 

The girl inhaled as if he smelled good, but went willingly. “I have to go away for another week or two,” she finally said. “There’s something I need to do. I won’t be around to protect you, so I brought something that will.” As if by magic, a long slim, curved dagger appeared in her hands and she rested it gently on his thigh. It looked to be made from bone or a fang of some sort and made more for piercing than slashing. Next to it came a fan. It was a dinky little one, the cheap ones most Asian markets churn out for tourists… or at least it looked as gaudy.

 

Chan bit his lip. “I don’t have anything… wait.” Pulling back, he reached up to his neck to pull off the thin silver chain around it. Working slowly, he slipped off the ring on his right hand and worked it onto the chain. It was the first one he had bought with the little money he had managed to save up, but this was a better cause. “Here,” he said, handing it over and hanging it around her neck. “And here.” A squeeze of her hand. “Come back safe, okay?”

 

“I will,” she promised solemnly, and lifted her pinky finger slightly, holding it out to him.

 

Feeling his throat close, he wrapped his pinky finger around it and held on tight.

 

Later, after she disappeared, he wrapped his hand gingerly around the handle. It was surprisingly light and hummed in his hand, but not as much as the small fan, which he tucked into his pocket. He had no desire to study anymore. Instead, pulling out his phone, he called Tae- _hyung_. If he had to talk to one of the others just now, he’d just scream.

 

The phone gave a click or two before he heard him answer. “…Kookie- _hyung_? I know it’s a bit late, but can we talk? Are you busy?”

 

=======================================================

 

Wonwoo slowly stirred the straw through his iced Americano, reducing it to flavoured water as he waited at the upscale coffee shop most of the people at their company favoured. Dressed in a mask, glasses and snapback, he was one idol in the midst of almost a hundred people wearing practically the same outfit, and he had been careful making the appointment, so he felt reasonably safe. Still, he had chosen a space towards the back, far enough away from the windows.

 

As a person, Kim Namjoon attracted attention. He was taller than most people in the shop and dressed with Jin- _hyung_ ’s flair for clothes, so when he entered the coffee shop he pulled a lot of attention as he prowled through the tables to the one Wonwoo had chosen. Still, he had a wide friendly smile when he sat down, and gentle eyes. “Wonwoo-ya,” he murmured. “I was very surprised to get your request. We’ve not really talked much before, have we? Let’s order, _hyung_ will get you what you want, eat well, okay?”

 

Wonwoo straightened. “I hope it wasn’t too out of place, he murmured, standing to bow slightly. “I had asked one of the _hyung_ s if it would be a problem, and they said not? I’m sorry for taking you away from your duties. I had planned to pay for us, Namjoon-ssi…”

 

“As if I’d let that happen,” Namjoon said. “Call me _hyung_. Come on, let’s get meat, I always feel better with meat for lunch. What is it that you wanted to talk to me about.”

 

“Jiminie- _hyung_ tells me that you’re tutoring him in some of his subjects,” Wonwoo said carefully. “The main ones, and… well, the not so main ones, and I asked a question that he said I should rather ask you.”

 

That made Namjoon’s eyes narrow slightly. “You know,” he said, sitting up. “Let’s go to a barbecue place I know. I get the feeling this question is going to go over better with some soju and a whole lot of samgyeopsal. Hold that question.”

 

Wonwoo ambled along as his _hyung_  got them a taxi. It was over twenty minutes of driving before they arrived at the place. Rather than the indoor type he was used to, this one came with little outside areas complete with military-style MRE trays and camping stools. Namjoon sent him off for a second helping of the banchan, taking charge of the fire himself, and when he returned there was a truly prodigious amount of meat balanced next to the grill.

 

“Sit down,” Namjoon invited. “Drinks should be here soon. I’ve put up some wards, so you can ask what you want to ask freely.”

 

There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he stuck to the main one. “Namjoon- _hyung_ , is it possible for a mundane to learn how to cast spells?”

 

The haetae blinked at him and sat back, idly playing with the grill tongs. “I understand why my son sent you to me,” he finally said. “The very simple answer is yes. Everyone has the capacity to do it, but not everyone has the predisposition. It travels in families, that kind of power, the same as being another race might. For someone that doesn’t have that at all, it’s still possible, just very much harder. Then you might want to consider the type of magic you are talking about.”

 

“What types are there?” Wonwoo asked curiously.

 

“Three main branches that you might be familiar with,” Namjoon- _hyung_ answered easily. “Jinnie does a version that depends on interaction with spirits. Hobi- _hyung_ is a _chollima_ , so his ‘magic’ is mostly personal. The last is ritualistic, which is what your band members Jun-ah and Minghao-ah practice. The first is extremely difficult to learn, and I’m sorry to say that you will never be able to change as one of the beast races might. Spiritual interaction usually relies on a history of such in the family, because that kind of thing depends on a long enough lineage to impress spirits. That leaves the last… the spells you referred to in the beginning, I think. And here are our drinks.”

 

Wonwoo paused as the waiter brought out sodas and soju, lighting the grill for them. The activity gave him some time to think about it all. “Jiminie- _hyung_ seemed to think there was a lot more science behind it than most people thought,” he said when the man left. “But he couldn’t explain it very well.”

 

Namjoon’s smile gentled into true fondness. “Jiminie’s problem isn’t that he’s not clever, never think that. His problem is that his mind simply doesn’t work that way, and he is so powerful that the earth simply gives way to his desires. He and my Jinnie are the same, and to a lesser degree Jungkookie – they believe so hard that things work. ‘Power’ is an energy that can be measured much like muscular strength or how fast you can run. I’ve been studying for over a thousand years now, and Jinnie is _still_ a better flow regulator than I am. But that doesn’t answer your question, does it?”

 

Wonwoo silently shook his head.

 

“You’re an idol, so you’re used to hard work, and you already have willpower and perseverance if you came through your training period,” Namjoon said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to check, but I don’t think you have the gene for it to be easier, like Jeonghan-ah does. You’re going to have to pull yourself up by your coat-tails instead, like Tae- _hyung_ did.”

 

Wonwoo blinked. “I thought he was insanely powerful?” he got out. “I mean, look at what he changes into.”

 

Namjoon grimaced. “Until recently, he had barely more power than a mundane, but he never let that stop him. Your ultimate problem is going to be that you’re mortal. You’ll die before you get to the point where you could think about being a user of that level. He didn’t have that problem.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo shook his head. “The sooner I start, I guess? May I ask you to teach me what you can, even if it’s just little things, Kim Namjoon-ssi?” He bowed his head as he asked, uneasily aware of the magnitude of the request.

 

“Why?” the haetae said curiously.

 

“Because I am a man, as much as I am still a kid too,” Wonwoo muttered. “Because I want to protect my family as best I can, and we’re up against some rather unique people.”

 

Namjoon- _hyung_ treated him to another of those long glances, then nodded simply. “I'll start you on the basics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The talk, part 2. 
>   2. A little more about how magic and protection and stuff works, and Jihoon outs himself as a baby dragon. 
>   3. Yes, they can control the weather, which is why Kookie and Tae told him, because his turbulent emotions were causing havoc. 
>   4. Traditionally, I've always thought of Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon as the more physically capable, and luckily I was proved more or less correct by the SVT Club series! 
>   5. Apparently Pilates is good for core strength and lean muscle toning, which'd help them as idols. All it's done for me so far is make my arms so tired I can't lift them well. 
>   6. After School and Pristin are two girl groups under the Pledis banner, for those that don't know. 
>   7. Seungcheol still can't tell lies with a straight face. 
>   8. No, Jun and Minghao aren't formally together yet, as the hugging and comforting and 'other part of his life' might imply, just extremely close. We'll get to the other still! 
>   9. Wonwoo makes an unprecedented step. 
> 



	30. Chapter 30

Chan had expected a visit from Jungkook- _hyung_ – Tae- _hyung_ ’s affectionate ‘call him Kookie- _hyung_!’ still rang in his ears – but he hadn’t expected a visit quite so quickly, nor in so much style. The dragon bustled in with his boyfriend two days later with enough dinner for Seventeen, their staff and some of the other office workers too, food that had made Jiminie- _hyung_ frown and grumble. When Tae- _hyung_ deployed strategic hugs and a loud desire to ‘see the place officially’ though, their second manager had let himself be distracted.

 

Jungkook- _hyung_ had no difficulties tracking him down where he had hidden to do his homework for the evening, and the warm smile he got made him feel a little less gnarly about having to bother him. Jumping up, he put his things aside and bowed, only to get a hand on his shoulder hauling him straight, then a hug.

 

“Sorry it took so long,” the dragon said breezily. “We had to fly back from Japan earlier. Where is it, can I see it?”

 

Chan nodded and pulled his bag closer. Having nothing to put it in, he had wrapped the dagger in a spare towel. “Here,” he said quietly. “She didn’t say anything about what it was, but it feels almost… awake? I don’t think it’s a normal dagger.”

 

Jungkook took the bundle from him and carefully unwrapped it, taking care not to touch it. He eyed the curvy blade, peeked at the hilt, then at the tip, and finally frowned. “It’s something alright,” he muttered. “I can feel it humming through the towel, so I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to touch it. I have a funny suspicion I know what it is, but would it be okay if I showed Tae-tae? He’s really the dagger expert. About all I know is that it looks like the fang of something very large that’s been worked.”

 

Chan nodded wordlessly. “If you think so.”

 

Jungkook flipped his phone case open and took a picture of the dagger, sending it to his boyfriend’s phone before he handed it back, then sank down next to Chan’s old seat. “So how’s life?” he asked. “Maknae to maknae, that is.”

 

Chan rolled his eyes, sinking back down with a huff. “At least Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ aren’t fighting anymore. Now it’s Jeonghan- _hyung_ that’s down, and things are getting tense with the song shows we’re on – did you watch our KBS show yesterday?”

 

“Yes! Congratulations on your first win, Channie, you guys deserve it. It’s a very catchy song. I heard from Yoongi- _hyung_ that your album sales are up as well, and that you have an official fan club now?”

 

Chan brightened. “We do! They’ve been really kind to us, and it kind of makes all the hard work worth it somehow, you know? Just hearing them and seeing them at the fan-signs! They’re still thinking of an official name for them though. Oh, and we do have a channel on V-Live now, _hyung_ , so you gotta subscribe, okay?”

 

Jungkook barely had time to nod before Tae- _hyung_ spun to a halt in front of them, theatrically out of breath. “Where is it?” he demanded, making grabby hands. “Lemme see, lemme see, before Jiminie gets here!”

 

“Doesn’t matter, Jiminie- _hyung_ has x-ray eyes,” Chan muttered dolefully as he handed the towel-wrapped dagger over. “The other day he saw me through three rooms when I thought I could get away with cup ramen. He came in and looked at me, and he looked so sad! I felt so guilty. I haven’t had cup ramen in over a month now, and I’m craving it so badly, but he just came in and looked at me, and my hand returned it to the cupboard before I could stop it. I had to eat some of that shitty jelly instead.”

 

He paused, looked at their laughing eyes, and gave a sulky shrug. “I mean, I love him and all, he’s really a great _hyung_ , but _ramen_.”

 

The two burst out laughing, enough so that Tae- _hyung_ had to sink down as well. He carefully unwrapped the towel and smoothed it over his knees so that the cream-coloured dagger was fully exposed to light. He eyeballed it for some time before lifting the whole parcel to his nose and inhaling. “Mmmmm,” he nearly purred, eyelids lazily half-lidding. “Do you smell that, Kookie? That faint, sweet scent?”

 

“I smelled it,” his boyfriend said. “I just have no idea what it is.”

 

Tae grimaced. “Oh, you wouldn’t. I don’t think you were ever around them, and this is unusually potent. It’s a fang from an elder naga. Not one of the large ones that bite in to hold you, but one of the smaller ones that injected poison. The poison gland’s still active in this one. But that’s not the end of it… smell again.”

 

Obediently, Jungkook sniffed at it again, having to do it three times before he sat back. “Faint dust? Something oily, but dusty at the same time. Almost like those chalk pastels you sometimes use.”

 

Chan goggled, impressed, and slowly scooted closer to see if he could smell anything. Nothing.

 

“That’s exactly it, love,” Tae murmured over Chan’s head. “You’re smelling bone and fat, likely blessed. Sometimes, if you concentrate, you can still smell it on the gate at Bukhansan. Someone died to make this.”

 

Chan recoiled, blinking up at his _hyung_. “What? Why would she… I don’t want it then!”

 

The answer didn’t come from either of the two with him, but Jiminie- _hyung_ that finally rounded the corner. “Not all deaths are unwilling, Channie,” he explained. “Sometimes people die for a greater cause. What mother wouldn’t die to save her child?” He paused. “Now I see why you’ve been looking so shifty, Kookie. You should know by now you can’t hide stuff from me.”

 

Tae cocked an eyebrow at him. “Exactly what I was thinking. She likely pulled it out herself and then when they rendered her down later on, a priest made this guard from her bones and fat. It’s exquisite work, albeit depressing.”

 

“I hide stuff from you all the time, like what Tae looks like when we…”

 

“Kookie!” Tae snarled. “Manners! There are children around!”

 

Chan looked between the three, feeling lost. “It’s not like I don’t know what a guy looks like when he beats it,” he said slowly. “I live with twelve other guys. That’s why I don’t walk into the bathroom anymore when I know Jun- _hyung_ is showering.” He paused. “Or Jisoo- _hyung_. Those two take their time.” Another pause. “So it’s not a _bad_ dagger?”

 

Tae- _hyung_ shook his head and wrapped it again, handing it back gently. “It’s not a bad dagger. The person that made this was trying to protect her family. If the girl gave it to you willingly, then it’s yours to wear. I’ll see if I can make a sheath for it, but you’ll have to have lessons. Not that I know where you’ll find time in your busy jacking-off schedule though.”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Chan protested. “I don’t… I… you know… I don’t have a schedule for that kind of thing!” His cheeks flushed. “But you know how it is, sometimes it just happens.”

 

“No wonder the dorm laundry detergent bill is so high,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said very drily. “Is it the dreams too? Should _hyung_ give you the talk?”

 

Chan shot to his feet. “Okay I’m gonna go now time to practice bye see you later thank you everyone!” Swiping his bag, he started to run down the corridor to the accompaniment of three very loud laughs.

 

=============================================

 

Of all the positions that Soonyoung had ever thought he’d find himself in, he wasn’t _quite_ sure how he had gotten to this one. He had conscientiously brought his friend-boyfriend-still-to-be-defined a cup of late night coffee. Moments later, after he had put it down with a smile, he was the one sitting in the production chair, with a very determined Lee Jihoon trying to drag him closer to the desk and hug his face at the same time. It was like being manhandled by a very small, very cute kitten, who secretly turned out to be some gigantic prehistoric cat that’d take your face off if cuddles weren’t doled out _right that second_.

 

“Oof,” he commented mildly, gingerly wrapping his arms around his undecided’s waist. “Hello? I thought you were working late tonight as well.”

 

“I am working,” Jihoon reminded him tartly. “But then you wandered into my lair. Did you go home yet and come back? Your hair’s still messed up from wearing those bunny ears. Only the gods know why they make me do aegyo when you’re so much better at it.” He reached out to finger-comb Soonyoung’s hair back from his face and grinned at him. “I finished it. The song. You know, _the_ song. That’s what’s mixing now.”

 

Soonyoung’s eyebrows arched. “Really? That’s wonderful! Are you going to put it on an album?”

 

Jihoon shook his head. “Not on this next one at least. I… what the hell are you doing?”

 

Soonyoung continued to pull him closer, until Jihoon was seated on his lap and he could hook his chin over one shoulder. “Jihoonie,” he insisted. “You didn’t want to make hearts with me at the fansign today. You broke my heart, and then you didn’t laugh at my jokes either. That means you owe me cuddles now to make up for it, and there’s no one watching.” He turned his head to rub his cheek against Jihoon’s shoulder.

 

“That’s because your jokes weren’t funny at all,” Jihoon said placidly. “They were the opposite of funny. They were as funny as the ones Jin- _hyung_ makes. I can’t support a sense of humour like that.” Still, he relaxed back into Soonyoung’s hold, head resting against his. “You’re just like Seungcheol- _hyung_ , you’re both attention-hungry at times.”

 

Soonyoung stilled. It didn’t sting much, but it _did_ sting at his jealousy a little. For a moment his jaw twitched with the need to say something, but he didn’t want to disrupt the atmosphere. Instead he laced his hands comfortably against Jihoon’s stomach and stared at the screen past his shoulder. “I want to write a song sometime too,” he murmured. “Something weird and atmospheric and hyped, you know? As loud as Seokkie and as fast as Minghao-ah’s feet.”

 

Jihoon turned his head a little to try and look at him. “Sounds like a tsunami of a song,” he teased. “Crashing all over the fans.”

 

“Nooo,” Hoshi said, drawing the sound out. “Tsunamis are Seungkwannie’s thing.” He considered, then decided to share. “I want something that begins with H, like Hoshi. A _hurricane_ of a song, that’s what I want.”

 

Jihoon burst out laughing, small form shaking in Soonyoung’s arms, hilarity filling the air.

 

Irritated, Soonyoung shoved him off his lap, only to pull him back on it, this time facing him. “Stop. Laughing.” It was less of a command and more of an embarrassed growl, and he was surprised to find that that spot had been tender and vulnerable when Jihoon’s laughter poked at it. “I don’t laugh at your song inspirations.”

 

Jihoon stilled in point-five seconds flat, eyes large under his blonde fringe, and short legs straddled across his lap so that his knees pinched at Soonyoung’s hips. For long seconds his body was taut with tension, as if he wanted to jump off, but eventually he slumped and sat down a little more naturally. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “If there was ever a person that could pull off a song like that, it’s you. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’ll help you write it if you want.”

 

Behind him the computer pinged to let him know the track had finished mixing but Jihoon ignored it for the moment, choosing to run his hand through Soonyoung’s hair again. Despite being blonde, it didn’t feel brittle at all, but as strong and flexible as he was. It was one of things that sometimes made him forget that his friend had a soft heart underneath all the joking about, and that his actions had a unique impact on the _chollima._ Unexpectedly, his heart reminded him of a million-and-one things: that he did care, the way that his lips had tingled after their first proper kiss, how he had wondered whether he’d taste of sunshine and fire…

 

Soonyoung swallowed at the gentle caress. “Your song is done,” he muttered. “You wanted to play it.”

 

“Forget the song,” Jihoon ordered as he leant closer to kiss Soonyoung’s pout off his mouth, arms settling on his shoulders. It felt odd, exciting, _nerve-wracking_ to kiss like this, but pleasure rushed through his veins like bubbles in soda. It wasn’t often he had the chance of being the guy on top, of towering above the others. Like this, body hunching forward, he had to actually bend his neck to meet Soonie’s lips, and hearing the little mumbles of pleasure coming from him only fanned the flames.

 

“Jihoonie…” Soonyoung muttered raggedly as he fought to keep his hands on Jihoon’s lower back. They wanted to move lower, caress the curve of his backside, dig into his thighs to encourage him closer. “Jihoonie, holy hells, please tell me that you know what you’re doing.”

 

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Jihoon said as he pulled back to glare at his companion. “I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing.” Stretching out over him, he reached to flick the lights off, leaving them bathed in the light from the screen. “Shut up and kiss me.” He had a bare moment seeing Soonyoung’s lips curl into a smile before large hands settled on his hips and urged them forward, leaving the two flush against each other.

 

Long minutes later, with the screen in power-saving mode and the coffee cold, they pulled away to slump against each other. Soonyoung’s lips – swollen, his dragon liked nibbling – brushed against Jihoon’s temple, and he shivered at a last kiss tucked against his racing pulse-point. “Better,” he breathed out, satisfied, with his arms moving to lock around Jihoon. “What is a fan-sign, I don’t know her? Song who?”

 

Jihoon groaned and dropped his head at the cheesy meme, settling in for a cuddle instead. “If only I could block and report your sense of humour.”

 

========================================

 

Hansol looked up as Chan came thundering into the room as if ten devils were behind him. For a moment he thought to say something, but when he ran right straight past into the actual practice area, he decided against it. He was tired and sore from overdoing it the previous day, but working his arms, shoulder s and back until they burned had cleared his mind a little.

 

His dream last night had not been pleasant, filled with snakes and feathers and scurrying insects. Even now he could dimly feel the nausea that had threatened then; he had woken up and started to work on lyrics instead, devotedly scratching and crossing out and inserting other snatches of phrase. Oddly enough the song had come to him in a rush, as if it had been waiting to get out, and it was mostly Seungkwan’s fault, that and the memories he had remembered.

 

He had known in a sort of academic way that in that other lifetime he had been attracted to him, not only in the ‘hold your hand because I am crazy about you’ but ‘holy hell he makes me feel hot’ way. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he remembered them having sex. Those were the kinds of dreams that he liked, but got way too infrequently thanks to all the doom and gloom and portentous omens. The leather pants had been different. The leather pants had been _illuminating_ , because they showed him that not only was he still attracted to him spiritually but very much physically because whoa. Even a hurried glance was enough to tell him that he was definitely a butt man.

 

His hand paused as his self-control wobbled just remembering it. Biting his lip, he forced his attention back to the lyrics. It was filled with things he wanted to tell the guys, to tell Seungkwan in particular. Memories pulled from that lifetime, memories of some of the negative posts on the fancafe, and even just the discrimination in the rap world. It had made him glad he and Seungcheol- _hyung_ had talked the PD out of putting them in ‘Show Me The Money’. They would have had little chance doing well there, not with their age and lack of experiences against them.

 

This song… it contained a lot of frustration. The irritation he felt when someone criticised Seungkwan’s looks for not being traditionally handsome like Mingyu- _hyung_ was. For ragging on their vocalists’ voices, just because not all of them had the same set of pipes as DK. For calling him a candy rapper because he was in an idol group. He didn’t even want to laugh at the pun anymore. Scratch that. He had _never_ wanted to laugh at that pun.

 

With a start he realised that he was gritting his teeth and he stopped, letting the pen fall from his fingers before he rubbed his eyes. He wished he could go tell everyone to fuck themselves every time he saw someone’s thoughtless comments out there.

 

Grimacing, he took the pen, scribbled the last of the third verse and scooped up the piece of homework paper. Talking to Jihoon- _hyung_ wouldn’t help, nor would talking to Seungcheol- _hyung_. Instead, he set off to the only other person he knew that truly didn’t give a shit about doing things other than his way.

 

It wasn’t a long wander upstairs and to Bumzu- _hyung_ ’s studio, and he heard his voice beckon him in as he knocked on the outside. Slipping inside, he closed the door carefully before nodding to the short figure that sat there. It had gotten to the point that he wasn’t surprised when he found Yoongi’s sharper features and blonde hair rather than Bumzu- _hyung_ ’s rounder looks. It meant the guy trusted him enough to let that be seen, and that he was in a mood and a half himself. The guy was the most honest he knew, and yet for them he put on someone else’s face, every day, lied about what was at his core.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he muttered as he sat down in the second studio chair. “Have you ever had one of those days when you wanted to tell everyone to fuck off? I’m having some trouble with a rap I’m writing.” He handed over the piece of paper. “It’s not what I should be writing, but I don’t want to not write it either.” He sunk his fingers into his hair. “Jihoon- _hyung_ wanted us to talk about what it felt like being a young rapper.”

 

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat and took the paper, scanning it quickly. Moments later he frowned, went back and scanned through it a little more thoroughly, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk to mime the flow of the song. “Interesting,” he finally said. “it’s definitely not candy rap, that’s for sure, or idol rap, not when you’re cursing like someone was paying you to do it.”

 

“Someone is paying me to do it,” Hansol got out drily. “You are. And honestly, fuck it with everyone that calls what I do idol rap. My feelings are still genuine, I still talk about things that are important to me. I’m not two different people, Vernon-the-rapper and Vernon-the-idol. People that try to force others into a box made out of their perceptions are the ones that should sit down, shut the fuck up and think about their choices again. I just want to do me.”

 

“And that,” Yoongi said slowly, “is why this is a good song. Because you’re starting to see wider than most people. Not everyone will understand a young dog standing on a stage tearing their preconceptions a new asshole, and people _are_ going to say that you’re too young, you’re too idol. There are still places where you can tighten the lyrics up some, and it’s not the kind of thing that’s going to appeal to the wider Seventeen audience which, let’s face it, is mostly school-aged girls at this stage, but it’s good nevertheless. If you want to produce it, I can help. You can release it as a solo track or part of a mixtape.”

 

Hansol struggled to look him in the eye, but he understood what his _hyung_ was saying, and it highlighted why he had been having so much trouble writing something with more crowd-appeal. He had been working against his nature, which was kind of like having a very fast bird and expecting it to swim well straight off the bat.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he mumbled, feeling a little defeated. “ _Hyung_ , I’m such a fucking mess.”

 

Yoongi stared him straight in the eye. “Welcome to the family,” he said gently. “We all are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Jungkook and Tae are still training in Japan, but both are fast enough to return if needed. 
>   2. Chan vs. Idol Diets. 
>   3. Junhui taking his time in the bathroom for exactly the reason below is actually canon. I still can't believe it the boy said that in an interview. Whether Jisoo does the same, I don't know, but it fitted in well. He does take longer showers as well. 
>   4. I'm imagining that if you live with twelve other teenaged guys you do catch them at certain activities at times. 
>   5. The whole scene with Soonyoung brought to you by the letter H and my need for Soonhoon feels. At least their relationship is progressing well enough, but I attribute that directly to Jihoon making the first moves. 
>   6. Bureora Hurricane! 
>   7. The song Hansol is writing is in fact not Lotto. Instead I'm borrowing one of RM's raps, namely 'Do you' where he also talks about some of these things. It's an excellent piece of music. 
>   8. I don't know of any South Korean underground rappers that call idol rappers 'candy rappers', but I imagine they'd do it if they thought about it, there seems to be a lot of acrimony in their camp. Also, the fact that a candy wrapper is bright and blingy but is ultimately thrown away seems to suit the level of insulting going on. 
>   9. RM does curse a lot in the lyrics of that song. 
>   10. At the end of the day we're all messes, individually and collectively. Yoongi gets the feeling. 
> 



	31. Chapter 31

The music shows came and went until the last day of their promotions. They hadn’t managed to score an all kill, not that anyone thought they would it. It had given Wonwoo a lot of time to study up on the material that Namjoon- _hyung_ had sent him. To be honest, he had expected some hefty tomes with occult writing; he was surprised at the PDFs he received on his phone, but every inch of them was meticulously annotated and not for the slow of mind at all. For that he was a kind person, Namjoon- _hyung_ was also the kind of brilliant that expected you to look up everything you didn’t understand.

 

If the police looked at his browsing history, he’d be shipped off to a mental institute.

 

It was interesting work though, especially the introductory texts on the types of immortals and other supernatural beings. Those sections had been done by Jiminie- _hyung_ , whose comments sometimes made him want to screech with laughter, but also painted a picture of a person that, whilst intelligent, had been totally new to the world, lost and trying desperately to educate himself. He wanted to cry as much as he wanted to laugh. He settled on doing neither, because one would have his makeup run and the other would see him suspected by his bandmates of harbouring some secret alien invader.

 

It had also given him a few ideas about the starting place of some myths.

 

It was a day about a month later, just before the Battle of the Bands that they had been booked for, that he finally made a breakthrough. He wasn’t sure what he had been reading – his mind was a mess of facts – but the door to the kitchen opened and Jiminie- _hyung_ had walked in and he knew, he _knew_. It had been a heavily-scribbled copy of the Cheonjiwang Bonpuri, with corrections that hadn’t been in other copies he had read, which meant…

 

His mouth slowly fell open as he looked at his short, strong figure crossing the floor. He must have looked like an idiot, because Mingyu nudged him in the side.

 

“…what?” he managed to get out, still staring at Jiminie- _hyung_.

 

“I asked if you wanted some water before we go to the gym,” his friend repeated. “You’re gaping like you want to catch flies with your mouth, man. Is something wrong with Jiminie- _hyung_?”

 

The man must have heard his name because he turned to look at them, customary smile on his face, and met Wonwoo’s incredulous stare. It was like seeing sunlight leech away little by little, turning the day overcast. His _hyung_ ’s smile disappeared, and Wonwoo was sure his thoughts must be written on his face because his _hyung_ actually looked afraid. Of him. A creature that was technically less than nothing next to him.

 

‘Please’, Jiminie- _hyung_ mouthed silently. ‘Please…’

 

He snapped his mouth shut. “No, I don’t want water. I’ll see you there,” he said shortly to Mingyu, who rolled his eyes and scooted. He faintly heard the door shutting, with snatches of conversation cut off.

 

“Wonwoo-ah…”

 

Wonwoo very carefully locked his screen and tucked it in his pocket before he walked forward, inexorable enough that Jiminie- _hyung_ gave a step back. He reached out to do something he almost never did; wrapping his arms around his _hyung_ , he pulled him closer into a hug, hard and squeezing. The man barely touched his shoulder, especially given he had tried shoe lifts earlier that day. “I don’t care,” he said softly but fiercely. “Even if you had been an alien from outer space, I would not have minded. You’re my _hyung_.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s small hands cramped on his shirt and he breathed in raggedly. “I thought you’d think less of me. That I wasn’t human somehow.”

 

It was the saddest thing Wonwoo had ever heard this _hyung_ say, and that’s after he shared poetry with him, shared thoughts with him, found that the bright and loud exterior had a deep mind behind it. He wasn’t surprised when the door opened and Yoongi- _hyung_ burst through it, steps faltering when he saw them stand there. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said quietly. “Humanity is overrated. We’re a pretty shitty bunch. I know it’s cheesy, but I prefer you how you are.”

 

Another choked breath later Yoongi- _hyung_ was there to gently take over, motioning him out of the kitchen. He felt ambivalent as he left, and it reminded him of some things. That afternoon, after exercise, he borrowed Jisoo- _hyung_ ’s laptop and placed a few orders. It was expensive, but he felt better after he sent the flower arrangements to the _hyung_ s, one to the studio and one to Jin- _hyung_ ’s house, thanking them for everything he normally didn’t.

 

=============================================

 

Sora tied up her waist-length hair in the dancing studio’s tiny female bathroom, combing it up carefully into what looked more like a _chonmage_ than a girl’s ponytail. Her arms pulled with the motion, past burning into numbly sore from the last few weeks. That morning – the moment would always be _That Morning_ in her mind – her mother hadn’t been happy to hear that the deal she thought she landed with her daughter’s engagement wasn’t to be so. Her punishment had been harsh and far-reaching: Sora couldn’t remember when last she had eaten a full meal, or even when she had the chance of fresh air. School and dancing, singing and school, and throughout it all her mother’s clinical gaze as the dance instructor picked spots to hit her that wouldn’t be seen outside her clothing.

 

She had never quite fit in with the South Korean ideal of femininity, but over the last few weeks that pressure had increased until she felt like she was in a vice made of expectations, both from her mother and society as a whole. These days it was rare that she didn’t have a headache lurking dully, and it was a miracle she had passed her last round of exams. At night she dreamt of a black void sucking her dry; at day she tried to move through the intricate, beautiful steps of a Joseon dancer to the accompaniment of her coach’s switch.

 

She had not been allowed to come to the studio at all since _that morning_ , and she counted her blessings that Hobi- _hyung_ sent her a video of him dancing when she lied and said she had flu. Instead of a well-lit studio, she had painstakingly learnt the steps in the chill splendour of her room, pushing her body even further. It had left her in a pained haze, one broken with infrequent meals and whatever the supplements was her mother made her drink. Running away tonight had felt like lemon-sharp freedom on her tongue; she looked at herself in the mirror and tried to smile, but could not quite manage it.

 

She was pale, too pale and her eyes looked like huge, dark holes in her face. She plucked her gaze away and made for the door, plucking her cropped hoodie straight above her leggings. “Haneul-ssi,” she asked one of the infrequent dancers at the club, too tired to think straight. “You have any more of that headache powder of yours?”

 

The girl gave her a _Look_ , but quietly passed on the small twist of powder. In exchange, Sora let her dive into her bag; there was enough costly cosmetics in there she’d be in eyeliner for a year. She paid little attention to what else the girl took as she swallowed the powder down with a small sip of water, praying that she’d not become nauseous.

 

The Battle of the Bands had enough publicity that most levels of the studio was packed. Fans flocked thickly around the public corridors of the place, given that several of the smaller studios were holding impromptu fan-signs and merchandise tables. She had to push through when she tried to leave the bathroom, collecting innumerable comments about her rudeness, but she forged through into the dimly-lit staircase to the main studio floor as she kept her expression bland. When she finally reached the place, the crowd released her with a pop into the actual room, and she wandered around the edges to where Hobi- _oppa_  waited.

 

Hobi- _oppa_ gave her a look that comprised pinched lips and irritated eyes, expressing his dissatisfaction at her late arrival. She ignored him and let her head hang, breathing slowly to encourage the headache to fade.

 

Any other time she would have applauded him for the idea. She had, if she remembered correctly, way back before _that morning._ He had teamed up with Park Enterprises to do so; from what she heard they were a relatively new _chaebol_ that was making a big name in the clean energy industry. They had a surprising number of youth outreach programmes aimed at street kids and orphans. It was the kind of advertising that countless companies tried as part of a ‘social responsibility’ platform, but if they actually kept to it they’d be the first she knew.

 

The idea made her bitter. A part of her wished they had an outreach program for people that technically had it good but that were dying inside. She had cried so many times in the past few weeks, ever since the acceptance into the team came, that she had no more tears left, just a gritty feeling in her eyes and a vast howling in her heart.

 

In the middle of the huge room, Seventeen and Nu’est faced off, jeering happily at each other in a sunbae-hoobae matchup the fans were screaming over. They would be dancing and singing, there would be performances from the dance academy – including the one she was leading – and the chance to sing karaoke with some of the idols. She was ninety-nine percent sure that the boys were going to be mobbed for that one, given how hungry the fans looked.

 

Funny. She couldn’t really remember any of their faces or what they sounded like, for all she had met them before. At least the headache was fleeing, leaving her with a kind of churning nothingness instead.

 

For the moment… well, for the moment there was an entrance ceremony of sorts, and an MC taking over things to explain what was going on, and Sora faded until Hobi-oppa pinched at her arm. She looked around, dazed, and saw her instructor frowning even more. Now there was an undercurrent of worry to his look, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find words. “You’re up,” he whispered.

 

Sora’s glance flew to the clock. Somehow forty minutes had passed between one blink and the next; her limbs felt like a marionette dangling from a puppeteer’s strings, moving against her will.

 

Earlier, brave, she had worked with Hobi-oppa to choreograph a dance routine to Kris Wu’s ‘I Choose The Road’. The dance they came up with was intense enough that her backup dancers almost couldn’t keep up, but she had pushed herself and them, day and night, until they moved like five bodies under the control of one brain. Now, seeing the boys head out to the dancefloor as the beat started, she nodded because she knew she was required to nod, and watched them start the song without her.

 

Everyone started screaming as the beat thudded against the concrete box they were in, obviously thinking that it was going to be just the four men dancing. She took a deep breath, feeling helpless rage wash over her and cursed herself for being weak-willed. Then, with an explosive movement she burst into motion, tumbling and flipping through the intense dance pattern they were tracing out until she landed in the midst of the troupe with a crack of hard boots. They split apart, formed up around her and proceeded to tear the floor apart five-strong. Her eyes were tightly shut, forehead already beading with sweat.

 

==========================================

The louder members of their band were in their element, laughing and cheering and making them look good in the eyes of the public. The quietest ones: Jisoo, Wonwoo, Jihoon, The8 and Hansol, had early on claimed a place close to the section where they were pointed at, and had sat down with sighs of relief only broken by the occasional wave, finger-heart or smile for shouted fan requests. None of them spoke much, since fans had odd talents and lipreading wasn’t above anyone, so instead they quietly got on by playing the bottle game as Seungkwan MCed a little mini dance-off between Nu’est and themselves.

 

From the quick look Jisoo cast that way, JR-sunbaenim was dancing poor Channie into the ground, pulling out moves their maknae wanted to emulate but didn’t. Thank goodness Chan remembered that he was underage and in public, because he was enough of a little shit to do it anyway.

 

A quick glance over the crowd set him to frowning; there was a very thin girl with dark eyes and simple scraped-back hair that had looked straight at him for a second. “Minghao-ah,” he muttered quietly. “I think that girl of Chan’s is here again. Look over there, just to the right of that camera, she’s hovering a little behind Hobi- _hyung_.”

 

Minghao’s shoulder tensed against his – nowhere that girl showed up was _good_ news – and scanned the crowds. Seconds later as he blinked and looked again, he turned a surprised face towards Jisoo. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said very quietly, enough so he had to bend over towards him, “That’s not the girl. That looks like Sora-ssi. What happened to her?”

 

Jisoo nearly choked on his sip of water and stared. For the girl that had rescued him from being a fillet on someone else’s sword, Choi Sora looked as if she had been on an extended bender for weeks: eyes dull, motions not quite coordinated, dark circles under her eyes. Not only that, but she looked like she had lost at least ten kilos she couldn’t spare in the first place. “That’s… not right,” he got out. When the bands returned, ready for the dancing portion to begin, he muttered to Jeonghan and Seungcheol, who both looked over, and both had the shock of their lives.

 

Thirty minutes later, just as he decided enough was enough, the floor cleared for the last act, something choreographed by the school themselves. Four boys strode onto the stage, dressed in nigh-identical street fashion, and something loud and synth-heavy came on.

 

“Wú Yìfán!” Jun called next to him. “I Choose The Road! It’s a good thing EXO isn’t here! Wow, look at them go!”

 

Indeed, the four boys were practically shredding the floor they went so hard at it. They had the kind of pin-prick accuracy he’d never have; two seats down Soonyoung-ah was practically standing on his chair and cheering, and the crowd was going wild. He smiled, tried to crane to the side to see… and then didn’t need to crane as well. A thin figure came bursting out of the crowd like an arrow, already tumbling as she struck the edge of the floor. Her body curved high in the air, higher than he thought people should be able to tumble, and as the guys flowed and ducked, she landed with a gun-crack of heavy combat boots.

 

The crowd went wild; with Sora-ssi’s white she contrasted against the four backup dancers, and if he had thought the choreography was difficult before this was on another level. Channie was cheering so hard it’d be a miracle if he had a voice left. Seungkwannie was whispering something to Hansol-ah. Hannie… Hannie was looking straight ahead, eyes never moving, with skin paling. “There’s a problem,” he managed to whisper. “With her. She’s like an acid trip screaming in my head… Joshuji, there’s a big problem…”

 

All Joshua could do was nod and watch as the dance ended minutes later and she left towards the edge of the crowd, moving like a zombie without even acknowledging the MC.

 

============================================

 

The beat moved her, the screams directed her deeper and deeper and she lost herself in this music for the last time in her life. The room took on a frequency of its own around her as she said goodbye to the studio; her body was an amplifier for the crowd’s intense emotions, spinning them into a thread thinner than silk but twice as strong.

 

She wasn’t sure when they ended, though she somehow bowed and walked back to Hobi- _oppa_ a sweaty mass. His worried look had doubled by now, but he reached out to squeeze her hand, murmuring something she didn’t hear. The roaring intensified in her ears into a formless mass of grey as she hunkered down, and she looked out over the crowd as if they were distant specks on the field of eternity. Even the bands’ guys looked at her, in a little better resolution since they were closer, and she half-saw one of Seventeen's members leaning down to speak to a slim guy, jerking his chin to her.

 

Another blink, another fade of time, the public competition. It seemed to go as well as it could, though the flashing lights and high fluting voices made her mind whirl, nauseous, ignoring the power bar Hobi-oppa pushed into her hand.

 

She found herself in the midst of the floor with a mike in her hand, likely pushed there by one of the people in the club. The lights were dim and dozens of eyes were on her. Turning jerkily, she made it to the DJ station in a fugue, and leant over to whisper to the cat-sharp man there. He blinked, gave her a _look_ and she fixed burning eyes on him, staring him down. After a moment he shrugged and she returned to the floor as the lights died to a bare, febrile glimmer.

 

She sunk down to her haunches as the haunting, atmospheric chords of ‘Sick of Life’ started. It wasn’t one of the Elen’s better-known songs, written whilst he was still touring the circuit as an underground rapper in the nineties caught in a downward spiral, using and abusing. She felt her throat move, her stomach ache, felt the bile in her brain boil over and she uttered a scream of such rage it echoed the one on the backing track before she moved into the lyrics. There was absolute silence around her, and just enough light to see the first row of faces. She whipped her head around as she rapped, searching for something she could focus on as the blackness started closing in on her.

 

There.

 

A speck of light, a firefly glint. A pale face with large eyes that burned just as much as hers, though his look was hesitant and hers lost. She felt the moment lock just like that, and couldn’t look away as she told the story of Elen’s rage and violence with her own voice. She told the story of his depression, the blackness he waded in, the pinprick despair each time he took drugs. The euphoria, floating and flighty at best. All whilst looking at the shocked look on the guy’s face, the prettiest thing she had ever seen, and she felt a little glad that she had seen it before the end.

 

At the end of it she lifted her hand, let the mike drop with a squeal of feedback and pushed her way back through the people, moving faster and faster. Her footsteps sounded thick and felty as she finally made it to the staff bathroom and she slammed the door open, panting in the sterile, clean silence of it. In her mind people cheered, ice cracked, and she felt Sumi Jo’s impeccable rendition of Ave Maria play in the diseased portion of her mind, some kind of knee-twitch of memory from singing it over and over these past few weeks.

 

The desire to die rather than return to that world whiplashed through her, and she bent over the bathroom sink to vomit bile and the sips of water she had taken at Hobi-oppa’s insistence. Everything tasted sour and rank, even her memories, and her intercostals hurt so much at the repetitive actions that the only thought to get her through was that she wanted to be at home, in her room, in her own tiny little shower to bleed out, where the tepid water would take the pain away from her.

 

With the room spinning around her, she vomited so much she didn’t notice the hand pressing damp towels to the back of her neck; speech simply wasn’t an option she had, and all the sounds around her had long since vanished.

 

================================================

 

By the time the dances ended and the vocal portion of the evening began, all of the guys in the band knew something was wrong, but they were front and centre, and there was nothing they could do about it. It was a valuable lesson in idol behaviour; they continued to smile until their cheeks nearly wanted to fall off. Without it, the evening would have been enjoyable. With it... not so much. Even with Yoongi- _hyung_ only a few steps away from them at the DJ station, they couldn’t wander up and have a word with him.

 

A bit of a commotion started as Sora-ssi stumbled from the edge of the crowd as if pushed. She had a sizeable fan following, if he looked at the dancers from the studio cheering her on, but her motions were if anything even worse than before. She stumbled to the mike that the MC held out, wandered past him and nearly fell against the DJ booth. Yoongi- _hyung_ ’s expression narrowed to infuriated cat-eyes as she did, and a mumble of argument passed back and forth between them, but eventually he nodded and she made her way to the centre.

 

Her gaze cast about as if she was searching for someone, and she turned towards their group; none of them were sure who she was looking at until her gaze landed on Jeonghan and did not move away.

 

“Oh shit,” Jisoo heard Seungcheol mutter next to him as the music started. “Oh hell, this is not going to go well.”

 

She inhaled – the motion seemed to go on forever, stretching her too-thin body taut – before she bent down and _screamed_. The sound curled into the room, exploded over the crowd, and faded into one of the fastest raps he had ever heard. It sounded old too; out of the corner of his eye he saw Yoongi- _hyung_ wipe away tears from his face. The rap was unrelenting, forceful, not something a normal girl should have done. Low, very low, and so fast he had to struggle to hear all the words, but the despair in the words soaked into her tone of voice.

 

She didn’t look away from Jeonghan. Not when she spoke about being high, not when the topic turned to starvation, not even when she curled the last few steps into suicidal intent with phrases so choppy and sharp Jisoo thought she was half-dead already. At his side, Jeonghan managed to keep the smile on his face, but his whole being was so tight it was as if he vibrated.

 

“Staff bathroom,” Hannie managed to whisper out, looking dumbstruck still. “Make them go get her. Joshuji…”

 

Jisoo didn’t hesitate. He turned to speak to Cheollie, then caught Jihoon’s eyes, beckoning him forward as well. Together, passing the excuse that they needed to get to the bathroom, they let the staff escort them through the crowd, popping through into the sections for idol and staff use only. It took them only a few moments to find the right bathroom, led there by the sound of vomiting. The door was locked.

 

Jisoo would remember that moment forever after. With a single glance left and right, just to make sure no one saw them, tiny Jihoon leant back and kicked the door open like the savage that he secretly was on the inside. It wasn’t even hard, but the lock splintered out of the lintel like a knife through paper, and the door swung open violently.

 

Inside, Sora-ssi didn’t even notice them as Cheollie strode inside, frantically wetting paper towels so that he could press it at the nape of her neck as she vomited. It was the worst thing Jisoo had ever seen; he had seen the guys getting sick on and off, but never anything like this – the basin was stained bright red, as if she were throwing up blood.

 

Her knees almost folded and Seungcheol wrapped his arms around her to hold her up; even through the vomiting she moaned as his arm touched her stomach. The three of them looked helplessly at each other.

 

================================================

 

A hand pulled her up as she finished, tried to keep it straight. Strong arms wrapped around her, and as her head lolled backwards someone gave her the strongest slap she had ever received in her life. It spun her head around all the way, forced her teeth into her cheek, tore a part of her lip open, but it worked, it _worked_ , it exorcised the darkness before her eyes. She stared upwards, shocked, but didn’t know who he was at all. There were more guys hovering in front of the door, but their faces were smears of colour.

 

The guy holding her shook her gently, but her body flopped as she heard angels starting to cry.

 

“Careful, Cheollie,” the guy at the door warned. Pretty, so pretty, if only there weren’t snakes coming out of his eyes.

 

The boy in front of her frowned over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. “I thought it was nerves, but this isn’t normal, her pupils are enormous. Drugs?”

 

The other guy at the door came closer to take her from him, leaning in to sniff delicately at her bleeding mouth. He examined her arms: the crook of her elbows, the skin between her fingers, and even the hidden secret spaces beneath her collarbones. His fingers pressed against her thready pulse, looked at the way she shook as she sweated. “I can’t tell,” he finally said. “I don’t know. But she’s dehydrated, her heartbeat’s humming and sweating like a pig – Sora-ssi, can you hear us?”

 

The sudden change of pace churned at Sora and she stared at him without being able to answer.

 

They looked at each other. “Cheollie,” the slimmer one at the door said, turning to the first boy. The third? They kept on splitting and recombining. “I think we need to go get one of the _hyung_ s.”

 

Sora gave up, gave _out_. She closed her eyes and fell forward, oddly glad that she would finally cease.

 

================================================

Jimin had barely made his way out of the studio before his phone rung, displaying Seungcheol’s number. He had promised to look after the kids – Seungmin-ah had a hot date – but girt in by so many people he hadn’t imagined they could get themselves in trouble, and a phone-call could be nothing but. He sighed and ducked into a quiet nook of the building’s exterior. “Seungcheollie?” he murmured as he answered. “ _Hyung_ is just about to catch a taxi, I’ll be right there ok?”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungcheol’s voice sounded panicked. “It’s the girl, Sora-ssi. Something’s very wrong, she looks like hell and she’s been vomiting blood and I think she’s on some kind of trip, nothing’s going right! We’re in the bathroom and she passed out on us.”

 

Jimin nearly swallowed his tongue. “I’m on my way. I’ll send someone to you.” With a click, he put the phonecall on hold and called Hobi- _hyung_ instead.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said, having to raise his voice over the noise on the other side. “ _Hyung_ , go to your staff bathroom, the girls one. There’s an emergency. Help my guys, okay? I’m on my way. I’m right on my way.”

 

Hobi stuttered something, but he was already stepping out to look at the moon that gilded the night sky. He didn’t need to say anything. Yoongi’s brother enfolded him with silver-sweet rays and took him away, hiding him as he sped across the city.

 

================================================

 

Jisoo’s head snapped around as Hobi- _hyung_ stumbled into the bathroom, falling on his knees next to Sora. They had stretched her out on the floor with Jisoo’s jacket serving as a cushion and Jihoon’s tossed over her shivering body. “ _Hyung_ , thank god,” he got out. “Hannie warned us, I’m not sure what’s wrong with her, but she was vomiting blood and she just passed out on Cheollie…”

 

“Her pulse is way too fast,” Seungcheol added. “And it’s like she’s not all there.”

 

Hobi knelt down next to the girl he had long since become fond of. Choi Sora wasn’t one of nature’s talkers, but he had wormed things out of her, had been there when she cried, and he felt almost like a father. Now, as he peeled her eyelids back, listened to her thread breathing and felt carefully at her neck, arms and ankles, he felt like a failed father. The one thing Sora had never done was drugs, and she had spent hours holding others through their withdrawal. “She’s on a bad trip,” he speculated.

 

“Why’s she looking like shit?” Jihoon asked blandly.

 

“I don’t know,” he had to say. “I’ve not seen her in weeks. She only came in a few minutes before everything started. I barely had enough time to press a bottle of water into her hands. She seemed out of it, but not like…” He paused. He had been palpitating her abdomen gently, something he felt there alerted him, and he hitched her pants down lower.

 

“Holy fuck.” That was Seungcheol, but he didn’t blame him for the language. What looked like base had smeared off on the band, revealing a striping of thin bruises below her navel, ranging from faded yellow to a dark, angry purple. Below them, her abdomen felt swollen and squishy. His hands trembled. Someone had beaten his Sora-ya, someone had beaten her into the _ground_ and she hadn’t called him for help, she hadn’t reached out to him…

 

A series of footsteps touched down next to them and Jisoo scrambled to make space for Jiminie- _hyung_. “Go back to your band,” he ordered the others tightly. “Seungcheol-ah. Make sure nothing goes wrong. Get the boys to the dorm.”

 

He only looked up when the room cleared, gazing straight at Hobi- _hyung_. “I’m going to need energy,” he said quietly. “We can’t call Jin back right now, he’s off with Namjoon- _hyung_ on that overseas trip. Is that okay, _hyung_?”

 

“She’s like a daughter to me,” Hobi said, pulling the pants carefully back up over the bruising, feeling furious and angry and defeated. “What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Wonwoo starts the studies mentioned in the previous chapters, and is the first of the Seventeen boys to figure out Jimin isn't quite normally supernatural. 
>   2. More of what Sora's mother forced on her will come out later on. Being rich doesn't protect one, unfortunately. Lives can still be quite bad. 
>   3. The only excuse Sora has here for asking for medication from someone that she knows is a druggie is that she's so far gone she wouldn't need a telescope to see Mars. 
>   4. It's always easy to say 'Oh, why didn't she leave if it was that bad' or 'I wouldn't stay with a guy that hit me'. It's not always that easy to live through it. 
>   5. Oddly, as much as I love Seventeen I've practically never seen anything by Nu'est, and had to go and look up the names of one of their good dancers. 
>   6. Wu Yifan is the Chinese name of Kris Wu, one of the members that left EXO. I personally love [I Choose The Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pfj2sOYv9dU&ab_channel=dramafan), the lyrics mean a lot of me. English translations seem to be rare, but Google Translate is your friend. 
>   7. If anyone here is interested in street-style/hip hop/intense k-pop dances, HMU if you want to chat about favourites! 
>   8. Headcanon AU History: Elen was an underground rapper in the nineties, a name that Yoongi used when waiting for Jimin got too bad. 
> 



	32. Chapter 32

With Soonyoung’s birthday days in the past and Wonwoo’s fast approaching, the band was busier than ever. Whatever the boys’ personal feeling was about the Battle of the Bands, it had brought them tremendous popularity; 17 Carat was still playing in big stores, and the album itself was sitting at seventy thousand records sold after a few months. The executives of the company were glad, the boys could finally breathe again, and they were finally able to start working full-steam on the Boys Be album.

 

Of the girl that would have starred in their Mansae video no one heard very much. Jimin- _hyung_ could be persuaded to say that she was safe now, and getting over a lot of things, but as time went by the pressure became increasingly strong for them to choose another idol, or a TV actress. Or, as Seungmin- _hyung_ once remarked in a fit of despair, _anyone_ , even if it was himself in a school skirt and pigtails.

 

Seungkwan was happier than he could remember being. He was doing what he loved, the continued diet had him holding right where he wanted to be with his face, and everyone was only too happy to give him time and tips to better his MCing skills.

 

Spontaneous phone calls from his mother were rare. He had gotten into the habit of phoning her every night even if it was just for a minute or two. Getting a call right in the middle of the day was strange, so he apologised to the other guys and hopped out of the room quickly, going to hide in one of the small conference rooms. “ _Eomma_?” he asked worriedly. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Kwannie, I’m just calling to say thank you for the money that you paid into my account. You really didn’t need to, okay? _Eomma_ can still support herself very well, you don’t need to worry about me so much, and it was such a large amount. You should save this for your education, or for later on in life, maybe invest a little bit of it…”

 

Seungkwan blinked and struggled for understanding. “ _Eomma_ … I would have if I could, you know that, but I didn’t? We’re still barely at the stage where we can afford things like extra toothpaste and cologne. What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh?” his mother murmured. “But I don’t understand… you transferred five million won? It definitely came from your account, I had the young lady at the bank check that for me…”

 

“I’m confused, _Eomma_ – I really didn’t. I promise. I can check on this side, maybe it’s a mistake from the bank here. Um, don’t touch it, okay? Can I get back to you tomorrow?” Seungkwan asked, getting worried. “ _Eomma_ , we’re at a recording session, I have to go, but I love you, okay? Mwah!”

 

After his mother’s goodbye he turned to speed out of the room and back to the waiting room they were in, hopping over legs and bags of clothes and furniture alike. “Hey,” he muttered as he parked his butt on the couch next to Hansol’s tall form. “Hansolie… yah! Chwe Hansol!” he called, reaching out to pluck his earphones out.

 

“Boo… what the hell?” Hansol grumbled, waking from the half-asleep state he had been floating in happily. “What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“Hansolie, phone your dad, okay? As if he’s gotten some money into his account from…” Seungkwan stilled as Hansol’s phone beeped and he unlocked it to show a message from his dad, thanking him for the money.

 

They stared at each other, eyes wide, before they looked at the rest of the group. “ _Hyungdeul_ ,” Hansol called. “Did your parents get money from you?”

 

It took them some time to confirm, especially as most their parents were still at work and hadn’t checked necessarily, but of the nine families they could reach, all nine had gotten exactly the same amount of money.

 

The cherry on the cake came when Jun reached his parents first try; they had been ‘on business’ for the best part of the past month, deep in some kind of negotiation with some of the factions at the Chinese court. They watched as he stood in the middle of the room, Cantonese flowing thick and fast, before he let the phone droop and stared at them with wide eyes. “It’s the Yùlóng,” he managed to get out. “They’re gone. Word on the street is they offended someone very powerful, and they’ve been taken care of. The numbers gangs there won’t even admit to knowing any of the dead people, they’re that scared.”

 

“And the money?” Seungkwan prompted. “ _Hyung_ , what about the money?”

 

“When my father checked online, he had gotten roughly the same amount.”

 

“We don’t need to worry about them anymore?” That was Seokmin, smiling his biggest smile. “That’s wonderful! It’s sad that they died, but I was so worried… do you think someone paid damages, or…?”

 

“Guys,” Mingyu stuck his head in, blinking to see them all stand there. “It’s all over the news in the cafeteria!”

 

Jeonghan did a double-take. “About the Yùlóng? I wouldn’t think news outlets here would report on them?”

 

“What? No, _hyung_. About the breakthrough that Park Industries just made,” Mingyu said, confusion lacing his tone. “They just switched on the first of the stable fusion containment engines. Someone has finally managed to crack cold fusion. Something to do with cows and water. Or cats. I didn't really understand it.”

 

Seungkwan gaped, lip wobbling a little from shock, before he dashed over to the TV in the room to switch it on. There, standing in front of what looked like a large auditorium, was a young teenager slowly explaining a Byzantine series of equations, whilst Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin looked on proudly.

 

As he finished up, a reporter stuck up her hand. She was speaking one of the Scandinavian languages, but the Korean subtitles below captured the essence very well. “Mr. Park,” she said. “This is quite the breakthrough for such a young age. What are your plans for the future? More research?”

 

The young boy blinked, still looking uncannily like Kookie- _hyung_ ’s shocked expression. “I want to dance, like my elders in one of the pop groups back home,” he said innocently. “Their group name is SEVENTEEN. I listen to their music all the time. I want to be like them and bring happiness to people.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Seungkwan saw Seungcheol- _hyung_ raise a shaking hand to his mouth, covering up a sob. He didn’t blame him, he could feel the tears pricking in his eyes as well, and clasped desperately at Hansol’s hand as the reporters fell on their dongsaeng with questions.

 

==========================================

 

Of all the friendships in the band, Wonwoo thought, he wasn’t quite sure how he had become best friends with someone who could just as well have been an _actual_ puppy. He didn’t like dogs, he was afraid of dogs, and yet here he was, having to glare Mingyu away from stealing his chips. The expression on his face was _woeful_ , but Wonwoo had been hardened in the trenches by the likes of Boo Seungkwan and Lee Seokmin, so Mingyu’s pouting was doing nothing to him.

 

“Go get your own,” he growled. “You get paid the same as I do.”

 

“I just want one,” Mingyu whined. “Maybe two. C’mon, _hyung_ , I’m starving over here.”

 

“Starve him some more,” Jihoon said from across the bus aisle with a fair trace of venom. “Maybe he’ll stop growing and leave some height for the rest of us.”

 

“That’s not gonna happen, _hyung_ , I’ve got too much of a head start on you.”

 

Wonwoo could practically feel Jihoon-ah’s temper ignite. “You really did learn nothing from the guitar incident, did you?” he asked idly. Then, because the sniffling and whining was getting to him, he pushed the bag of chips over grumpily and turned his head to look at the weather outside. Today was the be the first filming day for Mansae; it was a Sunday, so the school the company approached to film in would be empty, and it felt strange to be heading there.

 

They arrived, hopping out noisily in the school courtyard, and bowed to the school staff that would be observing before they were pointed towards the classes they were allowed to use. Wandering with his hands in his pockets, Wonwoo tried to ignore the smell of hair-dye that floated behind him, as well as Minghao’s muttered irritation about his meathead hair. Not that he blamed him, having curls like that touched a man’s dignity.

 

As he opened the classroom, fighting the impulse to bow to a teacher, he stepped inside and stopped, shock trickling through his body. Situated at the side of the class just beside the low windows, with a book open and studying fiercely, Sora-ssi sat. None of them had seen her since that Battle at Sunshine Studios, where she had looked like shit. She was still thin now – he wasn’t quite sure how girls’ minds worked about dieting – but in the morning sunlight her skin was luminous and her hair long and loose and shiny, making him think of old poetry.

 

_Shit. Channie is going to go bug-wild._

 

“Move it, _hyung_ ,” Seokmin asked, pushing him forward a little so that he could step into the classroom as well.

 

All the boys welled into it before they stopped, making a vast, awkward crowd at the doorway. The scuffling and muttering must have alerted her, because she looked up and put her pen down, and grinned shyly at them. Her chair scooted back, she stood and bowed easily to them, hair whispering over her shoulders before she straightened again, spine straight and body at ease. “Seventeen-sunbaenim… good morning.”

 

Wonwoo swore he could hear Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s heart accelerate in his chest. They each mumbled their greetings, but it was Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Seokmin-ah that broke first, making their way over to bow again, greet her more energetically and start chatting. Chan bounded over soon afterwards, until almost all of them were clustered around her, letting him see Seungmin- _hyung_ ’s smirky smile and proud face. “You know about this,” he accused their manager- _hyung_. “That she’d be here? You knew the others were worried about her.”

 

“Not you, Wonwoo-ah?” At his shrug, Seungmin- _hyung_ grinned. “I knew, but she wanted to surprise all of you, and I thought she had been through enough that it wasn’t such a large request. She also has her apologies to make.”

 

Despite the many takes, filming went really well that day, with everyone in a happy frame of mood. Sora-ssi was still new enough that she apologised when she accidentally overstretched her reach and really slapped Hansol during one take, or when she poked Seokmin hard enough that a red mark showed up when she pushed him away. It was only in the small moments, like when he had to touch her hand or she ran with Seungcheol- _hyung_ that Wonwoo still saw a slight discomfort from her and a slight vagueness to her eyes.

 

“My eyes will recover, Hobi-oppa says,” she admitted quietly to him. “But for now I can’t see very well very far away from me, and when people make quick movements around me I get a little jumpy – luckily Hansol-ssi forgave me for slapping him earlier.”

 

“You likely made his day,” he answered drily. “We’ve all been looming around you all day, it’s understandable.”

 

That night after everyone piled into the van to return to their dorm, he tilted his head and watched the rest of the band. Their youngest was curled up and fast asleep with Hansol-ah providing him with a shoulder, Jihoon-ah and Soonyoung- _hyung_ were deep in cahoots and chatting about a new bit of choreography to fit a new song, and the _hyung_ line were shacked up in the front of the bus, with Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ giving Seungcheol a hard time about something. He had Jun- _hyung_ next to him, luckily tired enough not to pester him.

 

Idly, he thought of what he’d do if someone had treated his little sister like that, and watched the band members out of the corner of his eye. He suspected he knew the answer; he suspected he knew all their answers, and couldn’t find it in himself to care. That woman with the feathers, for one, she could go…

 

His head shot upright as a thought crashed into his mind with all the ease of a stampeding buffalo, and his eyes widened at his reflection in the window. _Oh my gosh_ , his mind thought, mimicking Seungkwan’s signature sentence almost perfectly. _Oh my gosh. If what I suspect is true…_

 

=============================================

 

Dino slowly played with the dinky little fan the girl had given him as he lay flat on his back on his dorm bunk, slowly swishing it open and shut. The filming for Mansae had finally wrapped, and they had received the good news that Sora-ssi had joined their agency as a trainee – the sunbaenim from After School and Pristin had been only too happy to have a new girl in the company, and had scooped her up almost immediately into some vast, secretive all-girl world.

 

The awareness that he was pining made his mood worse. It was a waste of time anyway. It wasn’t as if anyone that pretty would look at him whilst Seungcheol- _hyung_ was on the scene and quite obviously interested as well.

 

He sulked for a little, because she made his heart race in a way the _hyung_ s teased him for, but he was happy for her, and it had led him to thinking of the other girl in his life. Hence the fan. Hence the worry.

 

Although Tae- _hyung_ had offered, he hadn’t taken up the offer of lessons yet; the _hyung_ s called him a savage little shit, but it was one thing sassing them and another to take up a dagger with the intent of stabbing someone with it. He wasn’t sure how his girl did it on a day-to-day basis. Did some part die off? Did he even want to know what she went through to be able to manage that?

 

At least the good news was that the group that had threatened them for the past half-year was gone now, vanishing like mist. They were once again allowed to go outside with no restrictions beyond the normal. Given that it was a rest day he should have been studying or practising or maybe just listening to a bit of Michael Jackson, but he had woken up this morning and had felt like exactly nothing beyond maybe eating that half-can of Pringles he had been nursing since forever. If he could, that is, without waking Jihoon- _hyung_ up. That was one badger he didn’t want to poke.

 

Frowning at the fan he played with, he spotted what looked like a series of Chinese characters traced along one side of the handle. Tiny things really, half-rubbed to smoothness against the cheap plastic. He rolled out of bed, sauntered out of the room and pulled the door to the Jihoon-cave shut quietly. Seokmin- _hyung_ was chattering in the lounge with Jun- _hyung_ , playing some kind of game – Final Fantasy XV? – and off towards the side Jisoo- _hyung_ had the 98-line guys seated with him, slowly going over their English mock exams with them. He could already see Seungkwan- _hyung_ sulking as the two English-literate guys laughed at him.

 

Choosing not to disturb any of them, he moseyed in next door and was greeted by Minghao- _hyung_ fluffing his hair straight after a shower, already dressed as if he wanted to go out as well. “You look sharp, _hyung_ ,” he mumbled, looking at the easy way the clothes fell on his thin, sleek frame. He knew the guy had muscle, he was on the same unit as him, but none of it really _showed_ , leaving him to look like a model. “Um, are you going out? I just wanted to ask you something quickly.”

 

Minghao shot him a look over his shoulder. “I was going to wander around a little bit,” he admitted. “They have a retrospective at the MMCA on R.Shemiste fashion over the past few years that looked interesting. Failing that, I was just going to walk around and window-shop. It’s too boring to sit here at the dorm the whole day. Did you want to come with?”

 

Chan shook his head earnestly. “No, thank you, I just wanted to ask if you could see what’s written here?” He dug the fan up from his back pocket and pointed out the line of writing. He was surprised, however, when his _hyung_ not only didn’t take it, but leant back from it, giving him a _look_.

 

“Where did you get that?” Minghao- _hyung_ asked tightly. “It’s not… um. Not something I would expect you to have.”

 

Chan frowned. “It’s a kid’s fan, _hyung_ ,” he said, pulling it back a little. “What’s the problem with me having a kid’s fan?”

 

“It’s not a kid’s fan,” Minghao insisted. “Here, if I might take it, I’ll show you what I mean, although my mom would chop my hand off for touching one…”

 

Mystified and confused, Chan shrugged and handed the fan to his _hyung_ , giving a step or two back just in case. Five seconds later, as Minghao flicked his wrist the fan rippled, growing to something almost as large as his torso, with what looked like silk-covered ivory spines giving it structure. On the front there was a pleasant-looking painting of an open house with some kind of tree growing over its roof, and some guys sitting off to the side playing some kind of game. It seemed extremely realistic, almost as if the picture on the front was breathing and moving…

 

Minghao cleared his throat. “It’s a courtesan’s fan,” he explained. “I’d guess somewhere from the Ming dynasty, though in excellent condition given the enchantments on it. It’s not really something that men would wear. It feels heavy though, almost too…”

 

From the bones that held the fan straight, tiny blades shot out as he flicked his wrist sharply, and it looked as if it gained momentum, moving with blur that hummed. Chan jumped back; even Minghao cursed as he almost let it drop. Between the two of them, sifting into the air as if from flowers, came the same sweet scent that Tae- _hyung_ had purred over, and clear drops of venom sizzled as they dropped onto the wooden floor.

 

They stared wide-eyed at each other before Minghao breathed in. “Jun- _hyung_!” he shouted out the door.

 

“Come out here, I’m in the midst of a fight!”

 

Two minutes later, as Minghao- _hyung_ walked out grumbling, Chan wandered afterwards, leaning on the back of the couch to watch Jun- _hyung_ ’s reaction. At first, when he glanced, he said something in Mandarin to Minghao- _hyung_ that had the younger’s cheeks absolutely flaming, but the real prize was as he paused the game and turned to kneel on the couch, nose wrinkling at the smell. His cheeks paled, his body tension turned taut for a moment, and he goggled at the fan, taking it carefully.

 

“Where’d you get it?” he demanded from Chan after a short explanation.

 

“From the girl,” Chan muttered, frowning. “ _Hyung_ , give it back.”

 

“I’m not sure I should…”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Chan complained. “She gave it to me.” He didn’t quite lunge for it, but his feathers were definitely ruffled as China Line looked to each other, Minghao- _hyung_ gave a small shrug and Jun- _hyung_ finally folded it and handed it back. In his hand it turned into the same small dinky little fan it had always been, and he stuffed it into his pocket before they could grab again.

 

“Channie,” Jun- _hyung_ murmured. “That thing is dangerous. It could take someone’s life. You shouldn’t… I could send it to my parents, have it safely locked up…”

 

“It’s mine, _hyung_!” Chan yelled, driven past some internal horizon by his lack of tiny coffee dates to keep him calm and a pocket full of dangerous implements. It felt as if protective instincts roared up in him, and a stupid concoction of jealous over Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s mooning over Sora-ssi and always being the damn youngest, and a thousand other feelings he hadn’t realised he felt.

 

“Chan!” Jisoo- _hyung_ scolded from the side, drawn by the volume of his voice. Beside him, Seungkwan and Hansol were watching with wide eyes, quite obviously not paying attention to their schoolwork any longer.

 

From behind them came a thud as Jihoon- _hyung_ , likely startled awake, threw something at the door to urge them to pipe down. The thud broke the tension. Inhaling, Chan turned and fled, scooting out the dorm before anyone could stop him.

 

 “...what just happened?” Jun asked plaintively as the front door stopped vibrating from their maknae slamming it shut behind him. “Should I follow him?”

 

Jisoo pinched his eyes shut and pressed at the bridge of his nose. “It’s best to give him some time,” he said, trying to calm and not think about how badly Jeonghan would skin him for this. The two of them teased the poor maknae too much sometimes, and Chan generally held on to his temper, but Hannie was genuinely fond of his ‘baby’, and would have several pointed things to say. “Go back to your game, Jun-ah.”

 

====================================================

 

Sora blinked slowly behind the spectacles on her nose and stuck her hands into her pockets, standing just shy of the international exit at Gimpo. It had been crowded fifteen minutes earlier, with fans of Red Velvet watching their idols come home, but it was kind of chill right now. There was an indefinable air to airports, and she faintly envied everyone going off on a flight. It seemed like the kind of thing stories were made of, as scary as it was without Hobi- _hyung_ who was still outside getting parking closer to the building.

 

The gate before her opened and people started to saunter out, most of them well-dressed, all of them looking tired. She had just shifted to lean forward on the railing when she saw a tall form wander through the gate. Her father looked tired as well, more so than she would have expected, and when he paused to stare she raised the board with his name on it, peeking out over it cautiously. It had cost her a lot to get Hobi-oppa to agree with it, not to mention the secretary at her father’s company, but here she stood and there he stood, and he kind of looked like a miracle.

 

Choi Youngjae stretched his steps and she scooted around to meet him at the end of the railing, cautiously lowering the board. “ _Appa_ …” she got out, trying to apologise for ruining their family and forcing him to come back here. “ _Appa_ , I’m so sorry. I never meant…”

 

He reached out to wrap his arms around her and squeezed gently enough that her glasses didn’t squish against the material of his fine suit. “Shh,” he muttered. “Shh, it’s not your fault at all. We’ll fix it somehow, I promise. I’m just happy that you’re alright. You’re my little girl, okay? I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

 

She sniffled and nodded, hearing Hobi- _oppa_ ’s quick steps close in on them. Straightening, she turned in the crook of her father’s arm and smiled at her angel. “ _Appa_ , this is Hobi- _oppa_ , the man I told you about. Jung Hoseok. He’s the one that’s been looking out for me. Hobi- _oppa_ , this is my _appa_ , Choi Youngjae.”

 

Her father bowed, likely deeper than he had in years. “Choi Youngjae at your service, Jung Hoseok-ssi. I think we have a lot to talk about, but I wanted to thank you first of all for taking care of my little girl. Thank you for picking me up as well.”

 

Hobi- _oppa_ , likely spotting the twitch that meant her father had been spending a lot of time in Western company, grinned and reached out a hand to shake his. “Pleasure. Come on, let’s get going. You wouldn’t believe the crush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. As much as it might sound, five million won isn't that much, clocking in at about $4500 somewhere, I believe. Still a lot for rookie idols (and me) but others might think that's grocery money. 
>   2. The engine they're talking about is the device mentioned by Jin in previous chapters. 
>   3. Cold fusion is still not cracked, and I think scientists prefer calling it low-energy nuclear reaction (LENR) these days. In any case - no offense Mingyu-ssi! - what Sehun has done is actually solve μCF or muon-catalysed fusion. It's a significantly cleaner source of energy than traditional nuclear fission. 
>   4. This science fact brought to you by a cat made out of water, thus proving that Jin's Dad Jokes can save the world. 
>   5. Wonwoo strikes me as very quiet and intelligent, but also very tsun-tsun at times. 
>   6. After School and Pristin are other Pledis gigs, this time girl groups, if anyone didn't know. 
>   7. Dino vs. Puberty. 
>   8. Jun's scandalised face brought to you by the fact that the fan has painted on it a scene from the [Jin Ping Mei](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jin_Ping_Mei). One of the subtle ones, but still recognisable. 
>   9. Jun says '浩浩, 你不需要那样来勾引我' so I leave it up to you guys if you want to know what it means. 
> 



	33. Chapter 33

Jeonghan wandered into the _jimjilbang_ , thanking his lucky stars that they were still relatively unknown enough to be able to just show up. The past week had been a stressful affair, from having to deal with a rebellious maknae to a leader in the first pangs of a very painful crush, and all he wanted to do was go inside, have as many treatments as he could afford and go and park his butt on a bench somewhere to meditate. He could feel that itchy feeling in the back of his jaw that always threatened when he wanted to grind his teeth.

 

On top of that, Soonyoung-ah and Jiminie- _hyung_ had been harder than ever on them to drill Mansae and the rest of the dances on the Boys Be album into them, and he legit felt like an old man hobbling into the place.

 

He collected his towels, gown and toiletries, went off to shower first, and settled in to soak slowly. Three hours later, when he went for a vigorous scrub – damn, the man had strong hands – he had gotten to a lazy state and made for the public eating area, pulling on the shorts and gown provided before he slumped down to close his eyes.

 

Fifteen minutes later, still regrettably awake, he finally sighed and confronted the reason he had wanted to get out of the dorm. He gnawed on his lip, took his phone and opened up Kakao, scrolling to find an old conversation.

 

 **JH:** I know that you said last time that you were going to scream if I thank you again, but thank you.

 

He didn’t need to wait long at all for a message. It came with a picture of a little drawn puppy waving fists in the air, and he had to applaud the artist for making it look cute, irritation and bashful all at the same time.

 

 **SR:** This is over seventeen times now, _oppa_ , please stop, I am getting really embarrassed. The gift set was enough!

 **JH:** It lingers on my mind, sorry…

 **SR:** I know what you mean, _oppa_ , it must have been so tough for you to face a friend in a situation like that.

 **JH:** I am still trying to get control of how it happened. I practice every day, I promise!

 **SR:** _Oppa_ , I never blamed you for that! But I will be happy to tell you every day if you need to hear it.

 

Jeonghan’s mouth quirked into a smile as he turned to rest on his side. Sora-ssi was a cute girl and somehow the two of them had become friends, bonding over a number of apologies and the most expensive gift set he could afford at Etude House. It had been surprising how painfully withdrawn she had been to cover a very soft heart, and even now he worried about her.

 

 **JH:** Your father has arrived already?

 **SR:** A few days ago. I had to see her again yesterday. I was so scared, but he was with me.

 

Jeonghan stilled, considering his replies.

 

 **JH:** What happened? If that is not too personal.

 

He had to wait for a long time to get her reply; he could see her typing, then stopping, then typing again, as if she tried to get thoughts out but couldn’t frame them, or didn’t want to frame them, or struggled for words.

 

 **SR:** They won’t divorce, it will be too much bad press, and she gets to keep the house. He has set a settlement down for her, but I don’t have to see her again and when he is away from the country Hobi- _oppa_ gets to be my guardian. I’ll be staying in company dorms.

 **JH:** Hobi- _hyung_ will protect you, he is a good man. And the band too, you have brothers now, you are no longer an only child. You must concentrate on learning well and becoming our precious hoobae okay? I want to attend a concert of yours one day.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ you are too much, you are the popular one here.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ … can I ask you a personal question? I answered one for you.

 **JH:** Go ahead but _oppa_ can’t be your boyfriend, Seungcheol- _hyung_ will punch this pretty face~

 

Another picture, this time of an angry cat giving him a very flat look.

 

 **SR:** _Oppa_ , what is Jisoo- _oppa_ to you? I wanted to say something after the photoshoot because I kind of saw you smile at me at the shoot and I thought wow he really is Seventeen’s angel, but then I saw you smile at Jisoo- _oppa_ and it was a totally different thing.

 **JH:** …what do you mean?

 **SR:** You smiled at me with your mouth _oppa_ but you smiled at Jisoo- _oppa_ with your heart… that is the only way I can describe it.

 

Jeonghan grimaced and rested back on the pallet, propping his head up on his toiletries bag. Even thinking about Joshuji made his heart ache, because they could clown around and hit each other with spa eggs, or just covertly judge everyone in a certain distance of them, or simply relax together talking about music or games they’ve played, or their families. Inhaling the thick air, he slowly breathed it out, pinching his eyes shut. If he could only tell one person, just _one_ … he breathed in and out slowly again, and started typing.

 

 **JH:** Can I tell you a secret, Sora-ya?

 **SR:** I will lock it in the vault with the rest of my secrets, _oppa_. But before you say it, can I guess?

 **JH:** Go ahead.

 **SR:** I will just go ahead and say it so please forgive me for being too familiar, but I think that you love Jisoo- _oppa_ as more than a brother and best friend. I feel privileged to have seen it up close, like the sun blessing my skin.

 **SR:** Ahhhh, that is so cheesy, I apologise!

 **SR:** I hope I have not offended you?

 **SR:** _Oppa_?

 

It was a struggle to type, not that he had tears in his eyes, but that he was glad he didn’t have to say it, that Sora-ssi had indeed seen the truth.

 

 **JH:** It’s okay, _oppa_ was just overwhelmed, but yes. You understand my secret now and it is hurting my heart today.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ ~ ٩꒰´·⌢•｀꒱۶⁼³₌₃

 **JH:** _Oppa_ doesn’t know what to do about it. It is so frustrating.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ , having a crush on someone you can’t have is frustrating. I can’t see any world in which you can’t have him, even if you have to keep it quiet and off the cameras. I think you can trust your heart to Jisoo- _oppa_ safely.

 **JH:** Stop making _oppa_ want to cry. Who is it that our Sora-ya has a crush on, hmm? Anyone would love to have you as their girlfriend!

 **SR:** Not when they are already going out with Jiminie- _oppa_ … please don’t say anything. Ahh I am so embarrassed!

 

Jeonghan blinked at the admission on his screen. Of all the crushes the girl could have had, he didn’t think she’d choose Yoongi- _hyung_. The resident grumpy bear of the recording studio? Girls had strange tastes.

 

 **JH:** Yeah, okay, _oppa_ won’t argue that one, you have no chance there.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ stop messing with my heart.

 **JH:** Can I offer you Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s heart instead? Or Channie, he likes you as well.

 **SR:** Stop teasing you can’t just give people over like that! I am not good enough for either of them, I just… _oppa_ I don’t want to fall in love right now, my heart is still sore from what happened. It’s one thing to dream about someone unattainable that is so much older than I am, but I don’t feel clean and there is the dating ban.

 

Of all the people… Jeonghan’s tongue clicked with irritation and he glared up at the ceiling of the relaxation room, considering how to handle this kind of situation.

 

 **JH:** Sora-ya, you should not talk about yourself like that, but _oppa_ will stop teasing okay? Besides it is time to go back into the sauna area and no phones allowed there.

 **SR:** _Oppa_ don’t text from a jimjilbang that is just creepy. But make sure to face mask okay?

 **SR:** And drink plenty of fluids! Seventeen’s angel must have the best skin of them all~

 **JH:** Of course~~

 **JH:** Bye bye Sora-ya, practice hard for _oppa_.

 

As he puttered ‘round to go and get a cup of sikye, he smiled. The conversation had been as good as a twenty-minute soak, and he looked forward to splurging on an oil massage and getting his hair done.

 

===============================================

 

Yoongi tilted his head at Vernon. “You want to do this?” he said quietly, finger tap-tapping on the mouse but never quite hard enough to make the last click.

 

Hansol took a deep breath and looked at the others in the room: Seungcheol- _hyung_ , who was giving him a nod, and Jihoon- _hyung_ , who had not only helped him tighten up the lyrics but talked about the science behind songs, even as he had pointed out flawed passages.

 

“Lotto had been well received overall, and you’ve gotten compliments on the flow and the topic matter,” Jihoon- _hyung_ said with his producer hat firmly on. “Trust your heart on it.”

 

Another deep breath. Hansol transferred his gaze to Yoongi- _hyung_ and nodded, watching as his _hyung_ ’s finger clicked the ‘Post’ button. ‘Do You’ soared into the public realm, no longer just a frustrated scribble from his pen.

 

==================================================

 

Dino woke up to a murmur coming from one of the rooms, underlined by the not-too-subtle sound of someone snoring, and wanted to curse, especially when he glanced at the time on his phone and saw it just after two in the morning. Wonwoo- _hyung_ had been at his worst in days, teasing him until he felt as if he wanted to punch him. He had retaliated by being at his sassiest and most dismissive. Added to that the fact that he was still not really talking to Jun- _hyung_ , and it had been a miserable couple of days.

 

Putting his phone down, he scooted out to the bathroom and took care of things, then out to the main room. The people talking turned out to be Mingyu- _hyung_ and Seungkwan- _hyung_ , watching something and talking about MCing, and he waved in passing as he headed to the kitchen. The room was night-dark and comfortable, and he wandered onto its cool tiles with a sigh of relief as he slowly stretched, then started to dig around in the fridge.

 

It had taken him some time and a lot of mumbling to accept that the diet plan assigned to him was keeping him in tip-top shape. He still craved salty food, he still wanted some spice to kick things up, and every time he saw the coffee up on the high shelf of the kitchen he wanted to make some, but he had slowly started to listen to his body, and it didn’t want the coffee at all. His mind wanted the coffee, just as his mind wanted sweet snacks and bags of chips, but he hadn’t had a single breakout in days.

 

As he returned with two cups of rooibos tea freshly made, he put them down next to his _hyung_ deul’s elbows, merely nodding at their murmurs of thanks. His feet took him back to his bed and he tucked his feet beneath the blanket, screen lighting up as a late-night message came in. There wasn’t much to it, just a ‘Come to the window when you can’ which sounded like the start of every horror movie ever. Still, being careful to move slowly, he scooted to the window and twitched the blinds slightly open, looking outside.

 

His heart skipped a beat, then roared into a pitter-pat hummingbird thud as he spotted the small figure balancing easily on the back fence. The light must’ve alerted her, because she looked up and hesitantly lifted a hand to him as if she hadn’t been away for weeks. He wasn’t sure how he left the room, nor how he left the apartment, but his duvet fluttered behind him as he dove out of the apartment’s back entrance into the wet, night-dark alley behind it.

 

She jumped down from the fence and wandered closer to him like a stray cat, almost invisible in the dark colours she wore. A flash of light illuminated her features, sharp but hesitant, and Chan felt tension that he hadn’t known he still kept cooped up roar out of him. One step, then two carried her to him and he held out his arms duvet and all. When she stepped close enough he wrapped them around her wet, slight body and pressed his face against her hair.

 

“I’m safe,” the girl said quietly against his collarbone as her arms moved to settle hesitantly around his waist. “And you too.”

 

“You heard the news about them?” he asked, tongue wanting to trip. “I was so worried when you didn’t come back in a few weeks, I thought maybe you had gotten in over your head, or something bad like that. You can’t just disappear like that, okay? I was worried sick! We’re friends, okay? We’re friends, you can’t just fall off the radar for weeks on end! Are you back for good now? Are you staying? Gods, you’re soaking wet, haven’t you ever heard of a raincoat?”

 

The girl made a questioning noise in her throat and stepped back. “I don’t have a reason to be here any longer,” she said to him, moonlight tracing a slim path across her face.

 

Chan’s heart felt as if it stuttered to a stop. “I…what?”

 

Her expression shifted oddly, and he got the feeling she was unused to having expressions. “Why have you never asked my name?” she questioned.

 

“I didn’t want to pry,” Chan said uncomfortably, arms falling to his sides. “I thought you’d give it to me when you wanted.”

 

She swallowed and nodded. “It’s Yue,” she said dully. “No last name, I never had a family. But… Yue. Do you know what it means?”

 

Chan shook his head soundlessly.

 

For the first time since he had met her, she mustered a smile. It didn’t look like a happy smile, and it was very small, but even that small tilt of her mouth made his heart lurch again. “I think you should go and ask your elders,” she finally said. “They’ll explain.”

 

He stared as she literally disappeared before him, confused and worried; when he went inside his duvet was wet enough to be soggy around his shoulders and he rolled it over one arm as he made his way back to their apartment. Sneaking into the door, he closed it very gently, ignoring the looks from his _hyung_ deul as he dropped it in the living room and made for one of the bedrooms. He didn’t have to shake a shoulder to wake Minghao- _hyung_ up, and the older boy followed him quietly as he made for the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind them.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said without fanfare. “What does ‘Yue’ mean? As a girl’s name, I mean?”

 

Minghao- _hyung_ gave him a confused expression. “It means ‘moon’,” he translated. “Partly, it’s normally joined to other words, like Yuèliàng, but it can stand on his own too. Why the sudden curiosity?” His expression changed. “Have you met someone with that name? Channie, they’re a dangerous person, if you did, you should…”

 

Dino tuned him out, lost in the vast roar of his heart instead. “Oh my god,” he choked out. “Oh, my god…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. A [jimjilbang](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jjimjilbang) is a Korean public bathhouse that is practically a part of life over there. There are all kinds of features and food and so on to pamper yourself with. A lot of people go there weekly or monthly to destress. 
>   2. As I've explained in a previous chapter 'Do You' is actually an RM song, but as he's not active in this AU as a rapper, nor is BTS an idol group, I borrowed it for Vernon instead. In my mind it has a very strong message. 
>   3. Dino sees the girl again. 
>   4. Dino vs. Heartbreak. 
>   5. For those of you that are somewhat lost as to why a girl having the name 'Moon' is a bad thing, it will be explained in the next chapter. 
>   6. The song that I listened to at the end was Seungkwan's [cover of Forsake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdAO92BAoSc&ab_channel=seventeenlyrics). 
> 



	34. Chapter 34

“Congratulations, Wonwoo- _hyung_ ,” Chan said earnestly as he wished Wonwoo a happy birthday for the camera and dropped off his present, a simple envelope with a card and a voucher inside. “Wonwoo- _hyung_ isn’t like the other _hyung_ s,” he complained to the camera, ducking the smack coming his way. “He likes books, all kinds of books. I…” Another duck, this time to the side, and he made a run for it. “Love you, _hyung_!”

 

The moment he stepped away from the camera his expression fell and he moved purposefully to the door, slipping out as quietly as he could. He didn’t even notice as he passed by the rest room where the others were waiting; when he met members of the staff and After School sunbaenim in the corridor, he bowed deeply and scooted through until he got to the fifth floor of the building, the place where exercise rooms went to die and he hadn’t seen anyone of his part of the company before. Slipping into one, he shut the door, left the light off and inched the dusty curtains closed.

 

He danced to the music in his mind, first their choreos, then his own dances, to and fro as his feet tracked patterns in the dust and he grew too tired to feel the way his heart burned in his chest.

 

=================================================

 

Hansol had long since learnt that the idol industry was very much a process of waiting in small, decorated rooms in uncomfortable clothes for perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes on the stage that they’d entertain their fans as much as he could. It wasn’t that he really minded, and he could always use the time to write lyrics or study for the year-end tests, but sometimes it was nice sitting there as well, just looking at all of the members.

 

His father had moved the money he had apparently ‘paid’ into his account for Sophia’s education, which he approved of; it wasn’t as if he wanted the money back, but it would relieve the pressure of a year of schooling and supplies, and his little sister deserved not to struggle as he did during his school years. He smiled to himself and flicked through the infrequent messages the two of them exchanged – she had sent him a picture of an English test that she had almost gotten full marks in, both to him and Seungkwanie, just to brag.

 

Seungkwanie. He looked up to find him playing around with the rest of his joke sub-unit, running through a skit of some sort he had conceived for a stage sometimes in the week. He looked really happy about it too in his usual loud, too-affectionate, pouting way – Seokmin- _hyung_ looked to be stealing his thunder – and his grin mellowed into fondness towards the guy he hoped he could ask to be his boyfriend someday.

 

He flicked his messages queue over to the one he shared with Jiminie- _hyung_ , where he had a space in which he could talk about his dreams. Lately they hadn’t been scary so much as sad. He had been trapped in a desolate world that looked as if an apocalypse had roared through it, with the barest sliver of a moon trying its best to illuminate all the wreckage. As his strange oracular dreams went, it was loads better than the one with the insects, or killing people. As it was, the odd one he had about feathers wrapping around a cat just last night had been kind of funny. The cat, at least, did not appreciate the feathers, and the feathers had fought it like Dr. Strange’s robe moved him sometimes. He had laughed himself awake.

 

As per usual, the _hyung_ line were sitting close together with the note books that meant they were going through the past few weeks, looking at the scheduling ahead of them and trying their best to raise the band’s image. He kind of missed seeing Doyoon- _hyung_ there with them, with all four heads bent together. Grimacing slightly, he looked at the rest of the band. The birthday boy and Mingyu- _hyung_ were sitting together, with Wonwoo- _hyung_ ’s nose in a virtual book and his socked feet tucked under Mingyu- _hyung_ ’s closest leg. There was a whole room full of presents and cake and standing supplies back at the office building. The enigmatic rapper’s fans had sent so much cake, in fact, that Wonwoo had had to give most of it away after taking loads of pictures, and the gifts hadn’t been bad either.

 

He watched Jun- _hyung_ watch Minghao- _hyung_ carefully as the younger Chinese boy slowly made his way through a self-cam as well, this time in a mix of Korean and Mandarin that included him reading a book slowly. The Korean fans loved hearing his pronunciation better, and constantly recommended other books for his list, and his Chinese fans retaliated with just as many in Mandarin, urging him not to forget his heritage.

 

Hansol’s eyes narrowed a little as they fell on Dino. Their maknae was curled up on the last couch in the room, seated quietly next to Jihoon- _hyung_ , which was about the safest place for him after his prank voucher gift to Wonwoo- _hyung_. Despite that and being chased halfway through a floor of the building, the maknae didn’t look happy at all. There had been slight shadows under his eyes until the makeup artist covered them up, and he was fast asleep, curled up in a little ball as if he were cold despite it being such warm weather. He had caught Seungcheol- _hyung_ looking at him a lot as well, and though Jihoon- _hyung_ used him for a back rest, he had their vocal leader’s jacket spread out over him.

 

“Vernonie~” someone said to him in a sweet, honeyed kind of tone.

 

Hansol didn’t even have to look. He grumbled as Seungkwan shoved himself in next to him on the small sofa, wiggling until he got comfortable, but he lifted an arm for his Boo when he burrowed closer, and gamely handed over one of his earphones. “It’s Hotline Bling,” he teased when the main vocalist finally settled in. “You’re going to hate it.”

 

“Lies,” Seungkwan pouted. “I saw the screen, you’re listening to Zico-sunbaenim. You’re such a contrary person, Vernonie.”

 

Even though he preferred his Korean name, there was something to the way that Boo said his stage name that made it tickle down his spine and do things to his heart. Grinning, he lifted his hand to flick through the reddish-brown locks of hair, feeling how the stylists had set the tumbled look with hairspray. It would only start moving again when Seungkwan started sweating it out, or washed his hair tonight. “I like it like this,” he murmured. “You lucked out. I still have fortune cookie hair.”

 

Seungkwan preened a little, grinning at him. “It’s because I’m polite to the noonas and you never speak to them,” he teased. “You’re such a shy boy. But at least they put some highlights in it?” He tilted his head. “How is the new phone working for you? I’m still trying to get used to the features on mine.”

 

Hansol frowned down at his phone. On the outside it still looked like a normal smartphone, but inside it was another beast entirely. It had been Namjoon- _hyung_ ’s gift to them on coming back to Seoul, a set of phones for them and their managers that had some kind of military hardening done to them, making them much more resistant to normal fan-hacks than usual models. He didn’t quite understand it all, but there was some kind of closed network they interacted on, with heavily encrypted communications. “I can get texts from my family again,” he said doubtfully. “And I no longer get those spam SMSes, but it was a nightmare getting music programs to work on it. Jihoon- _hyung_ had to show me how.  It has the battery life of a rhino though. I’m getting at least three days a charge.”

 

Seungkwan twisted a little to rest his head against his shoulder, reaching to poke at the side of the phone. “How’re your songs doing?” he asked a bit more quietly.

 

In response, Hansol flicked over to the feed he had been looking at. “Lotto is doing really well,” he murmured. “The other one is still getting known, I think, but some of the underground scene people said it was more honest than most idol rap songs. I don’t know.”

 

“I liked it, you know? It was very hard hitting and you’ll look cool rapping it on stage.”

 

Thinking for a moment, Hansol sighed. “I wrote at least part of it about you, you know?” he murmured, feeling Seungkwan’s shorter form stiffen against him.

 

“Which part?”

 

“Fuck that, you’re the only one ever, even if you’re not perfect you’re limited edition, leggo… anyway, someone wants you, so just do you,” Hansol murmured softly, too invested in the moment to want others in on it. “I see you scanning all the comments on the fan-café until late at night, and how unhappy you get at the nasty ones. Just do you, Boo.”

 

“Vernonie, you can’t just say things like that,” Seungkwan muttered, cheeks flushing a little.

 

Hansol’s head lifted as their call to the stage came. “I can,” he said as he extricated himself. “And I did. See you on stage, Boo.”

 

===================================================

 

Hobi sat in his office, going over the books for the company and trying to understand what his tax auditor had done. Although he owned the building that the studio was located in, the monthly bills were due, and he didn’t understand the man’s arcane instructions at all. From what he could see it wasn’t that there was too little money, but too _much_ , and that hadn’t happened to the studio’s finances in a good long while, given how much they spent on goodwill. Several of the court donated, yes, but the food and medicine supplies were still prohibitively expensive.

 

Finally giving up, he phoned Kang-ssi, murmuring greetings and asking after his family before getting down to the main business. “I don’t understand where the money is coming from,” he admitted bluntly. “I checked our non-profit account, and there was nearly two billion more in there than should have been. Do you have any idea, Kang-ssi…?”

 

“Er…” The man’s hesitation was palpable over the phone. “A-hah. Well, I thought you knew about it, Hoseok-ssi. After all, it’s normally you giving the number out to people, not me. And it’s printed on some of the documentation in case philanthropists wish to donate anonymously. It was cleared by the Tax Bureau after I applied for clearance, given that it was such a large amount…”

 

Hoseok frowned, hand stopping its doodling on the flower-shaped notepad. “Kang-ssi, what are you talking about?”

 

The man sighed. “A large donation came from China,” he said afterwards. “Very large, about one and a half million dollars. That’s where the majority of it comes from. I wasn’t stupid, I had the government investigate, one can’t be too sure with their money…”

 

“I didn’t think you were stupid, Kang-ssi,” Hoseok soothed. “Just surprised. I hadn’t realised that anyone over there knew of our efforts here.”

 

“The deposit was made by a Sino-Korean cultural outreach society,” his auditor said. “It definitely checked out. If I might suggest, you should contact an investment manager that I can work with so that we can properly invest the excess for future needs, and make sure that you turn this into a source of regular revenue.”

 

Hoseok sighed, still baffled. “And the rest of it?” he asked.

 

“Choi Heavy Industrials,” his auditor said promptly. “I didn’t investigate that, but they are generally on the up-and-up with regards to their social obligations.”

 

Hoseok pinched his eyes shut, resolving to have a very long talk with Sora and her father. He had told them he didn’t want any recompense offered. “Alright,” he said. “Have a nice night, Kang-ssi. I’ll let you know when I get a good investment manager.”

 

“Good night, Hoseok-ssi.”

 

===================================================

 

 

“If I have to look another piece of cake in the face I’m going to scream,” Wonwoo muttered towards Seungcheol- _hyung_. “Honestly, I feel so grateful towards the fans, but that was way too much. Even the gifts. It was a good suggestion to circulate the names of those charities beforehand.”

 

“You’re in shoes for the rest of the year though,” his _hyung_ said drily. “And shirts. And shorts. And pants. And tracksuits. And cute little bookmarks. And a forest. I wish someone would give _me_ a forest, I’d run away and never come out again. Do you think five-star forests exist?”

 

Wonwoo snorted. “Doubt it, _hyung_.”

 

“Sort through the stuff,” Seungcheol recommended. “The clothes and other gifts at least. It was good of you to give the cake out to the staff as well.”

 

Wonwoo considered, fingers tapping on the edge of the box he was going through. “I think I want to donate the toys,” he finally said. “To a local hospital or something. We can share the clothes at home, _hyung_ , and the shoes as well.”

 

“Why don’t you make a collage out of all the bookmarks and we can hang it somewhere?” Jisoo- _hyung_ suggested from the side. “Just pick a handful to use, and then you can recycle the rest that way. It’d both be pretty and we can show the fans we use what we can.” He reached into his box to shake out a black sweater embellished with grey detail, eyes widening as he looked at the label. “It’s an Alexander McQueen,” he stated reverently, holding it up to the light. “And there’s a card in with this: To Jeon Wonwoo-ssi, Wonwoo-ya, I am not able to ask if I may call you oppa, but if you can call me noona I’d be very happy. Happy Birthday!”

 

“It’s beautiful,” Wonwoo said quietly. “There are so many gifts I can’t think. And I’m not even one of the really popular members. If it’s bad like this, I don’t know how it’s going to be for your birthday, Seungcheol- _hyung_.”

 

Seungcheol shrugged. “I’ve already asked our communications team to prepare a post,” he said. “I’ve asked them to put down a few charity names, including Hobi- _hyung_ ’s, so they’ll work it in somehow. I like presents as much as the next guy, but I’d rather have the money go for a good cause. If presents still arrive, I won’t say no thanks, but by that time we ought to be in our new dorms already, so…”

 

Silence fell in the room as Seungcheol- _hyung_ closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “…you didn’t hear that,” he mumbled. “Not at all.”

 

“What new dorms?” Wonwoo asked curiously. “I can pretend I didn’t hear, but I’m still curious.”

 

Jisoo reached out to smack Seungcheol on the arm with a pack of scented fan letters. “Nice going, Cheollie,” he teased. “Wonwoo-ya, we might be moving into new dorms soon, but it’s to be a surprise for you guys. It’s in a safe complex, this one is really too out in the open after all the trouble we’ve had in the last few months. We’ll know soon enough. Until then, stay quiet, okay? Please.”

 

“…so do you think this jacket will fit Minghao-ah?” Wonwoo nattered on and pointedly ignored Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s relieved smile. “That’s one frustrated fashion fairy, we might as well share.”

 

===================================================

 

Chan wasn’t quite sure that Hansol- _hyung_ had thought about a dance when he put out Lotto’ and ‘Do You’, but they were both good songs for getting a good sweat going, and no one seemed to care if he used the small old practice room to dance his frustrations out night after night. They were all getting busy, dealing with their comeback and the new album, and he had glimpsed a worryingly long list of events scheduled for three weeks afterwards. Cheek-to-jowl promotions, events until it would come out of his ears. It was nice to have a retreat. It was nice…

 

He froze as he switched the light on and saw the person sitting against the far window, fingers wrapped around a coffee cup. For a single long moment he thought it was her, and his heart had begun to beat again. Seconds later, when he saw Yoongi- _hyung_ ’s sharp features, he felt miserably relieved and miserably sad at the same time. Surprised too, he hadn’t thought anyone would follow him up here.

 

Yoongi- _hyung_ patted the exercise mat at his side. “Sit,” he ordered, taking a long sip from his coffee.

 

Silent, he wandered that way and sat, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders.

 

“I’ve seen your school reports,” Yoongi- _hyung_ said. “Seungmin- _hyung_ came around to brag. Eighty-three in a test, that’s a lot.”

 

“Thank you, _hyung_ ,” he muttered. It was all he could do these days, study and dance and pretend very hard for the cameras.

 

“Jeon-ssi also sent his greetings. He asked how your archery lessons were going,” Yoongi muttered. “First I heard of it.”

 

“Jeon-harabeonim?” Chan asked, playing with his sneakers’ laces as he remembered the morning practice months ago. “We got busy right after that, _hyung_. I didn’t want to impose.”

 

Yoongi- _hyung_ muttered something under his breath. “You’re not happy, kid.”

 

Chan considered lying, but it felt wrong somehow. “No, _hyung_ ,” he answered at length. “The girl… not Sora-ssi, but the one that saved Jihoon- _hyung_. She came back. Things turned out awkward.”

 

“How so?”

 

“She told me that she didn’t have any reason to come see me anymore. That I was safe. And then she told me her name was Yue, and when Minghao- _hyung_ explained to me what it meant, I found out that she was the one everyone had been afraid of, and that it was likely her that killed all those people in China, and…”

 

Yoongi patted his shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” he advised. “Two, if you can.”

 

Chan swallowed back the tears that threatened and nodded. It took a few minutes, but his breathing slowed down.

 

“What are you more upset about,” Yoongi- _hyung_ asked him. “That she turned out to be a bogeyman, or that she left just like that?”

 

“She was my friend,” Chan got out. “And life had been cruel to her, and I should have been the one to protect her, and now it’s too late. All my school friends, _hyung_ , they know I’m an idol, and it’s difficult to make friends because they want to debut still and I have, but she accepted me just like that, and she did awful things to keep us safe, and I’m so confused I don’t know what to think or do. I feel like I’m in some stupid damn anime or k-drama or something.”

 

“I highly doubt a botched assassination can be counted as a meet-cute,” Yoongi drawled.

 

“ _Hyung_!”

 

A sigh followed. “Okay. You wanted to protect her. Can you protect anyone? Could she legitimately come to Korea and expect protection? You’re a kid still, Channie, and that’s not a bad thing. You’re a busy kid. Start small. Put her from your mind a little, and concentrate on getting stronger first. Take those lessons that Tae-ya offered you, start working out a little with your _hyung_ s. Become Lee Chan first, and give her time to get her head clear as well. Work on your career and yourself. If you do that, if you can promise to keep to those and work hard, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll look for her, and I’ll help her because you can’t right now, and one day when you are both a little older you can meet up again.”

 

“ _Hyung_ … why?”

 

“Because for better or worse, you are my dongsaeng and I love you, kid. Which older brother wouldn’t help a younger one out?”

 

This time, when tears welled up in Chan’s eyes, he let them fall, curling over Yoongi’s lap to cry all his frustrations out as the elder’s hand slowly rubbed his back and neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. It's often crazy what fans do to get close to their idols, like hack into their phones, making their families' lives difficult and trying to stalk them at home. 
>   2. having been studying Korean for the past month myself, I really appreciate all the effort the China Line guys went through to learn the language. I'm just on the alphabet and I'm already having issues. 
>   3. There's money all around suddenly. Dodgy... 
>   4. Idols get crazy birthday gifts. In this story, the boys are a bit more popular than they were in RL, but half of that can be attributed to the fact that there's no BTS to take up the majority of the population's pockets. The sweater described, by the way, is [this one](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/us/alexandermcqueen/sweatshirt_cod12165986in.html#dept=m_knitwear) ny Alexander McQueen, which is a typical kind of gift. 
>   5. I've always wondered what idols do with all those gifts. Despite some Korean fans not quite liking it when their oppa shares out his presents, I hope you will forgive me for stating that Wonwoo does in this story, because that makes sense to me. 
>   6. I have no idea how Chan really did in school. He might have done better than this. 
>   7. Yoongi has been shown time and again in real life as an extremely soft and caring person despite his stoic exterior. I think it's not too out of the way for him to take Chan under his wing as he has here. 
> 



	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. This chapter is pure indulgence, with nothing much happening in it other than the group's move to their new dorms. Action and comeback to happen in next chapter! 
> 


The band scrambled out of the vans, looking up at the building in front of them. It practically still reeked of new paint, and it was a modern glasswork fantasy located smack-dab in the middle of some of the most costly real estate they had ever been around. It was so close to the complex that Jin- _hyung_ and Namjoon- _hyung_ lived in they could walk there; most of the windows in the new building commanded views of the small section of wooded forest that the complex abutted. Not only that, but it was a short drive over the Han River to their new studio in Gangnam.

 

It was also the oddest building Soonyoung had ever seen. Touted as one of the most advanced buildings in the city, it had been under construction for the last two years, and the Belgian architect responsible for it hadn’t been afraid to go for trend-setting. The building was twisted on itself, looking like a giant glass sculpture more than anything else. There were trees on every level of the building, plus more in what looked like a rooftop garden of some sort.

 

Best of all was the stiff security needed to get in. There was not only normal security around the clock, but from what he could vaguely sense it had the same kind of wards as the complex, albeit on a lesser scale. They didn't make invisible so much as persuade people that had no business not to enter.

 

It was only once they were firmly inside the foyer, added to building security and looking at the place around them that he thought to ask. “How can we afford this?” he muttered to Seungcheol- _hyung_. “This looks like the kind of money SHINee-sunbaenim would be living in. Except for the magic. I feel magic.” He cast a look around; without fail, those members that could actively sense magic were walking more slowly, boggling at the place. Seungkwanie was practically delirious.

 

His leader grinned at him. “Seungmin- _hyung_ pulled a few strings. He knows the building owner, you could say. It’s a good place, especially for people like Hannie, who need the shielding but can’t afford to live in the complex away from most mundane life. I’ve only seen the preview shots of the apartments themselves, but you’re gonna love it.”

 

Soonyoung lifted his face to a broad beam of sunlight sifting down through a glass ceiling fifteen feet above him, inhaling as he smelled the lush greenery. “I already do.”

 

“Listen up!” Seungmin- _hyung_ called back as he led the way to the lifts. “Regroup on the twelfth floor, don’t get lost between here and there! You’ll have plenty of time to get used to things, but the movers will be here any second. Once we’re up there we’ll play kai-bai-bo to see who lives where!”

 

Thirteen boys crowded into three lifts behind him, experiencing the smoothest ride of their life up to the twelfth floor. Seungkwan, practically alit with curiosity, tapped his foot the whole way up there, blinking furiously to try and get his eyes to adjust to the magic lining the superstructure of the place. There was something deep below them, something that glowed with energy, and from it threads and lines of power spread up as far as he could see, providing energy for wards, thermo-regulation like they had at the palace, and a dozen other functions he couldn’t begin to guess at.

 

As they spilled out into the twelfth floor, all of them got to the first apartment in what appeared to be a cul-de-sac at the end of the building’s one floor, where they had to check in again with their supplied access to get the doors to open. The apartment they ventured into was light and airy and clean, way too big for one person. There was a large living-room with a huge TV facing a curved bank of couches, a nice-sized kitchen off to the one side that Mingyu- _hyung_ eyed, and five doors leading off into other parts, closed for the most.

 

“It’s so quiet,” he overheard Jeonghan- _hyung_ murmur to Jisoo- _hyung_. “I can’t hear anyone outside, just you guys.”

 

“Okay,” Seungmin- _hyung_ said as he turned to face them. “Here’s the deal. Each one of these apartments have enough space for five people, which means it should accommodate the units just fine. I don’t know if you want to split up, stay in your units or go by age. I don’t care either; you’ve worked hard at the old dorm, so I think you can be trusted here. Split up according to your own desires, and we’ll take things from there. Once you’ve decided, join me at the foyer again.”

 

The moment the door closed behind him cacophony erupted as everyone shouted their suggestions.

 

Five minutes later, room negotiations done, Seungkwan felt like crying. On the plus side, he was in a dorm with Hansol and Seungcheol- _hyung_ , both of which he got along with. On the other hand, he was in a dorm with Jeonghan- _hyung_ , who was likely the laziest person he knew on the planet, and Jeon Wonwoo, who was the most withdrawn of their lot. His heart quailed.

 

“Seungkwanie can sleep with me,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ said with authority. “Wonwoo-ah, will you and Hansol-ah be okay together? That way Cheollie can have his own room.”

 

“I…” Seungkwan murmured, seeing the other pair nod. “Okay?”

 

Suppressing his sigh, he looked at the other groups forming. Somehow Seoksoon had found each other, with Jihoon- _hyung_ and Mingyu- _hyung_ – they would be a clean, well-fed apartment at least – and China Line in the last along with Channie and Jisoo- _hyung_. From the way Minghao- _hyung_ hugged Chan to him, he intended to lay claim on their maknae. He felt a little disappointed, but each of the three apartments were next to each other, and they’d likely get a chance to hang out in all three.

 

Taking a deep breath, he laced his arm around Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s and squeezed it. “Roomie- _hyung_ ,” he teased. “We gotta make our room look the best.”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ gave him a smirk. “Of course. And we get the master suite, which means we get the master bathroom and the tub!”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened and he squeaked with excitement. “Yes!”

 

Hours later, with everyone settled in, the moving done and the traditional seaweed soup consumed, Seungmin- _hyung_ left them to scout out their new apartments. They were in 12-A, the one right at the end of the corridor, with Soonie- _hyung_ ’s group in 12-B and the others in 12-C, the one they had initially seen. Seungkwan trailed his fingers along the moulded plastic and glass walls, admiring the plants that grew so wonderfully inside, and he lost his heart the moment Seungcheol- _hyung_ opened their new apartment.

 

It was still clean and white and not very decorated, but it had so much light coming in that he wanted to cry. The shoe closet was big enough for all of their normal shoes, and the wooden flooring smelled of pine and citrus cleaner and welcome.

 

“The place was built to be eco-friendly,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Water and waste filtration, temperature conditioning, and a smart control system throughout. There’s a little garden out on the patio we’re allowed to plant in if we want, and every room has its own bathroom, so no more queueing. I spoke to some of the spirits that worked on the project, and they said it should be very restful and safe for people like Hannie and yourself, that need additional shielding.”

 

“No more nightmares for Hansolie?” he asked wonderingly.

 

“I don’t think so,” their leader said. “I’m not sure, since he’s a special case. We’ll see how things settle in. For now, do you want to go and see your bedroom?”

 

The master suite that Jeonghan- _hyung_ had summarily laid claim to was large, and their little single beds looked ridiculous in them. “We’re going to need to save up for beds,” his _hyung_ muttered, looking at the place. “And we’re going to have to think of aesthetics. It’s nice that there’s so much light here, but I need some good décor in here. Thank god I’m not in with Cheollie, he snores so much!”

 

“ _Specify parameters: wall colour?”_

 

The voice came from everywhere, it seemed, and Seungkwan nearly jumped over the bed with fright. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said. “Is that… where did that come from?”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ looked towards him with a wickedly happy grin, clearly enjoying his surprise. “A-heh, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for you, Kwannie. From what I read in the brochure, the walls are coated with a kind of transparent film that can mimic colours. No painting! The floors stay the same though, and we’ll still have to save for everything else for ourselves. The apartment’s control system handles it somehow.”

 

“ _Hyung_!” Seungkwan complained. “Okay. We’ll sit and thing about it.”

 

“For now I’m going to take a nap,” Jeonghan murmured, flopping backwards on his single. “Go and bother the other kids, okay?”

 

Seungkwan, sighing fondly, left to do just that.

 

=====================================================

 

Soonyoung hadn’t quite expected to share an apartment with Jihoon, and was currently going through several variants of the same thought: does he want to share a bedroom with someone as loud as I am, does he want a room to his own, does he want me one the other side of the apartment as far away from his room as possible, does he…

 

His train of thought broke off as Seokmin-ah closed the door behind the four of them, stranding them in the living room of the largest apartment he had ever seen in his life. Ahead him, moving purposefully like a pink-haired midget destroyer of worlds, Jihoonie sauntered in to look at the place, taking a peek through all the rooms before returning to them with the verdict: “Three room sizes, all of them have bathrooms attached. It’s like a fucking five-star hotel. We can divide how you guys want. I’m not sure who wants to be roommates.”

 

Mingyu-ah looked at them, looked at Seokmin and grinned. “As much as I hate splitting up SeokSoon Talk, I want to room with Seokmin- _hyung_ because I need his sunshine in my life,” he said, scooting to rest his arms on Seokmin’s shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Seokkie?”

 

“Visual kings unite!” Seokmin-ah confirmed, fist-pumping.

 

“Alright, I can take the smallest room…” Jihoonie began.

 

“How about we room together?” Soonyoung said out loud. “And you can turn the smallest room into a studio for if you have to work late. I’m sure Mingyu-ah won’t mind keeping us in snacks and coffee…” _Please say yes. Please…_

 

“Our genius composer should have his own Genius Lab,” Seokmin-ah agreed.

 

Soonyoung kept his eyes focused on his dragon. Would he go for it even? It was a huge step from making out a little to staying in the same room, but just the chance of being alone with him, being able to legitimately hold him at nights…

 

Jihoonie favoured him with a piercing glance. “If you get loud, I’m out, _hyung_ ,” he muttered. “But… it would be nice to have my own place to work from. I can ask if they maybe have some spare equipment I can move here, and it’d be large enough for my piano and desks and things…”

 

“Yes!” Seokmin-ah cheered, loud enough to cover the thudding of Soonyoung’s heart. “Alright, it’s settled then, roommates… let’s live happily together! Mingyu-ah, what about a nice computer setup… let’s go and look!”

 

They wandered off, leaving the two of them to stare at each other. Finally, apparently irritated, Jihoonie sighed. “Idiot. I can practically feel you working yourself up over there. All you needed to do was ask, you know.”

 

Soonyoung smiled down at him. “I’ll help you move your audio stuff,” he said in lieu of an apology. “And I won’t say anything when you try to steal the blankets.”

 

“As if,” Jihoonie muttered, grabbing his back again. “Come on. Let’s go see our room.”

 

=================================================

 

“Jisoo- _hyung_ ,” Chan muttered as they watched most of the guys leave their apartment. “Jisoo- _hyung_ , can I room with you?”

 

Jisoo- _hyung_ blinked and reached out to rest an arm on his shoulders. “Of course you may if you wish, Channie,” he said quietly. “But don’t you want to room with someone younger like Minghao-ah?”

 

Chan fidgeted, uncertain how to explain how much he didn’t want that. How it would be unfair of him to be a bad roommate simply because he’d have to listen to Minghao- _hyung_ worry, or because he still didn’t trust Jun- _hyung_ not to take what little he still wanted to keep close to him in the interests of keeping him safe. “I’d prefer it with you, _hyung_ ,” he muttered. “If you don’t mind. Please.”

 

“Let’s see what we can do,” his _hyung_ promised.

 

Five minutes later, with Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ in one of the smaller rooms, as well as the two of them, he breathed out a sigh of happiness. The place felt good, not as crowded and cramped as the previous dorm, and it would make his lessons at the complex much easier to get to. That’s why, when the three _hyung_ s decided to turn the master bedroom into an activity-slash-workout room, he had no arguments and merely helped to carry their stuff where it had to go before he started unpacking his clothes.

 

Yoongi- _hyung_ had been right. A week of just letting himself breathe had made him feel a little better, and his first workout with Tae- _hyung_ had been the kind of brutal-but-fun regime that he loved. It made him pause and look at his roommates, and he took a deep breath, scraping up what was left of his courage to go and knock on China Line’s door. “ _Hyungdeul_?” he asked as he pushed the door open. “Um, I was wondering whether I could join in on those morning exercises the two of you do?”

 

Jun- _hyung_ beamed at him, and Minghao- _hyung_ ’s shoulders slumped, as if he had been worried too. “Perhaps we can get Jisoo- _hyung_ in on it as well and make it an apartment thing,” the eldest suggested. “With three members from the performance unit, he should have known what he’d get into.”

 

“Kill me now,” they heard Jisoo muttered as he wandered closer. “But yes. Starting before the comeback?”

 

“It would be bad to start in the promotion weeks,” Minghao-ah said. “We’re very fit, but it works different muscles than dancing does. It’d be better to start sooner, so your bodies are ready for comeback and the muscle pains have disappeared.”

 

“Right,” Jisoo judged. “Let’s start on Sunday and ease into it slowly. It’ll give time for my joints to keep up.”

 

================================================

 

It took a week for Seungkwan’s dorm to get up to shape and everything unpacked, starting with larger pieces of furniture. They didn’t have enough money for the huge beds almost everyone wanted, the apartments were already luxurious enough, but the company shelled out for extra closet railings and the like, and Seungkwan found out that the walls in their bedrooms could not only mimic whatever colour paint they wanted, but actual pictures and scenes. For that week he and Jeonghan- _hyung_ had played with the settings, until they decided to go back to a light silvery green that made both of them feel refreshed. At night the walls rippled between blue and green; when they tried it one night, they both overslept so badly that they were the ones being sung to the next morning.

 

Wonwoo- _hyung_ and Hansol-ah had decided to go with blue for their room, but instead of keeping the walls plain they had opted to go for an aquarium look on the one wall, which gave the room a very cool-toned look with the blues and whites of their linen. It was restful, but he felt a little cold whenever he went in there, despite wanting to stare at the aquarium wall by the hour.

 

Seungcheol- _hyung_ had been the odd duck out. Able to choose just for himself, his bedroom was an odd combination of blacks and greys, but with bright orange bedding that somehow livened up everything.

 

They had left the public rooms alone, beyond making the walls an off-white colour that didn’t reflect the sunlight quite so much. The TV didn’t have a lot of channels, but it could accept input from an old gaming console that Hansol asked his parents for, and all-in-all it just worked somehow. With the collage of bookmarks that Wonwoo- _hyung_ had slaved over to make, they even had their first art piece up on the wall.

 

The building itself was more like a mini city block than anything else; there was a gym that catered to all the residents, some of whom Seungkwan had never seen in his life before, like the _tengu_ that had protected them once on the way to Busan, or the kappa-lady that had lived in Jin- _hyung_ ’s complex before she moved over here to be the landlady. There was a restaurant on the third floor, which the band promptly opened up an account at, and a small shop like a corner store run by the landlady.

 

Best of all was that Jiminie- _hyung_ and Yoongi- _hyung_ had moved into the penthouse apartment, solving the riddle of who Seungmin- _hyung_ got the apartments from. The building was fuller than they had thought, especially with so many supernatural creatures wanting to live and work in Seoul.

 

Thanks to the executives being rabid money-hungry weasels, the company decided to ‘leak’ little snippets of the music video for Mansae, each with a little ten-second dance attached to it. In between, they released the actual teaser images for the comeback: a parking garage shot that split them up into their units, a trek in the forest close by, and various glamour shots showing off some of the new looks they were sporting. A picture of Seokmin in a sleeveless shirt nearly wrecked their fanbase, right until one came out with Jeonghan with fluffy blonde hair, and then Mingyu looking as if the stylist noonas wanted to embody the ‘boyfriend material’ concept.

 

===========================================

 

Wonwoo thanked his lucky stars he had gotten Hansol as a roommate. The guy was quiet most of the time, talked every now and then, and listened to much of the same music as he did. He also didn’t snoop around Wonwoo’s side of the room, being so laid-back that he was practically a rug, and more importantly, didn’t particularly give a shit about any ominous chanting that came from his side of the room. Not that he _did_ any of that, but Namjoon- _hyung_ had unbent enough to lend him the blueprints to the Park Reactor, and between the line drawing and the equations scribbled all over it, it might as well have been occult gibberish.

 

He sat back and closed his eyes, considering again that he hadn’t known what he was in for when he asked for training. There was so _much_ of everything, but it wasn’t just that, it was a mindset he wasn’t getting. If only he…

 

“You’re thinking too much, _hyung_ ,” Hansol remarked from his bed where he laid listening to music.

 

Wonwoo blinked and turned to stare at him. It was somewhat freaky: with his eyes shut and his deep breathing, he looked asleep, which either meant that something was going on, or that it was the most accurate sleep-talk he had ever heard.

 

Idly curious, he shifted. Hansol didn’t twitch at the movement, but grew a quirky smile and turned on his side, muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘Boooooooo’.

 

_Alright, if I substitute this value in here, it should account for the coefficient, but… damn, not anything close._

 

“You’re thinking too much, _hyung_ ,” came a repeat, sounding even sleepier than the one before, and Wonwoo twitched, pen going skittering across the table with the shock. He gritted his teeth and went back to the start of the equations, resolved to go through them all slowly again. If that didn’t work, he’d switch over to something else, that philosophy journal looked interesting and Jiminie- _hyung_ had said it helped him a lot…

 

“You’re thinking too much, _hyung_.”

 

“God damn it, stop doing that!” he roared, so irritated by the creepy shit that he bumped his table and sent his coffee mug flying. Irritated, he reached out to snag it as Hansol jerked awake.

 

“I… didn’t say anything?” Hansol muttered sleepily as he woke up, before his eyes widened and he leant in to stare. “Whoa, how are you doing that?”

 

Wonwoo turned to stare, and boggled. There, neatly suspended in the air, his coffee mug hung and revolved slowly, coffee sloshing up high enough over the sides that it should spill but never quite did. He opened his mouth to admit that he had no idea how, and all of a sudden his mind raced and a subtle concentration he hadn’t thought of before broke, sending the mug to splash on the wooden floor, disappearing into a thousand gleaming grains of porcelain and splatters of coffee. Mouth still open, he keeled over slowly, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life.

 

When he woke up, he was greeted by an amused Jiminie- _hyung_ on one side, a worried Hansol-ah on the other and what felt like the kind of headache that one killed over, let alone took pills for. “Murgh,” he got out.

 

“Congratulations,” Jiminie- _hyung_ muttered. “Next time you want to do a little meddling with time, eat something first. It stops your brain from eating your spine. Hansol-ah, hand me that waste paper basket, it’s going to hit him in three, two…”

 

Wonwoo, struck with the worst nausea he ever had in his _life,_ curled up right on cue and got embarrassingly sick.

 

=================================================

 

Five days later, right as Seungcheol wanted to go home and pretend that he wasn’t an idol but a normal guy that could sleep when he wanted, Jihoon latched onto him with a claw-like hand, dragging him over to the large window at the end of the hallway, pointing down to the entrance beneath them. “It’s here,” he hissed portentously. “It’s goddamn here, Cheollie, just look!”

 

Seungcheol, still baffled by being called ‘Cheollie’ by someone other than Hannie and Jisoo-ah, went with because he liked his arm, and wasn’t quite sure he’d keep it if he didn’t go with. “What is?” he tried to joke. “The apocalypse?”

 

Jihoon-ah shot him a flat look and stabbed a small index finger at the glass, nearly smudging it. “Down there. _Look_. I want one, Cheollie, get me one.”

 

Seungcheol obediently looked and nearly swallowed his tongue as he did. There, parked across the wide space the CEO kept for his car, stood a gleaming black and red motorbike that looked very familiar indeed, as did the backside that was getting off it. And the woman, though his libido dimly sparked to let him know it wasn’t dead at all, contrary to his tired opinion. “The motorbike or the woman?” he asked, half-jesting. “Because I don’t think I can afford the first, and I definitely can’t afford the second.” He paused for a better peek. At the motorbike, of course, not the helmeted woman. _At all._ “I think the motorbike is bigger than you are. I’m practically sure, in fact.”

 

Jihoon’s elbow was just as pointy as his index finger, getting him right in the side. “If I had wanted to get women, which I don’t, I wouldn’t need you, _hyung_ ,” he said. “But as it is, Seungmin- _hyung_ listens to you when you speak about finances, so…”

 

“Forget it,” Seungcheol advised him with a laugh. “Come on, let’s go and take a closer look.”

 

Though Jihoon grumbled, he tugged him out of the office into the fading sunlight, ignoring the shape in leather that talked to the lady at their office reception. Instead, meandering to the Hayabusa, he let Jihoon loose on it, to peer and rave and talk to the bike, actually _talk_ to it, in the kind of language most people reserve for babies or very young pets. It was cute enough that he gave a step or two back to take a video. He’d be dead later, but it was _funny_.

 

“Is he okay?” a light voice asked at his side.

 

“Mhm? I think so,” Seungcheol said, turning his head. “He’s just got a thing… for…”

 

He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the woman that stood there. Beautiful came to mind. Flashy. Vivid. _In your face_. Though she had Korean features, her eyes were a strange yellowy-green colour, and her hair coloured a muted rainbow of colours like an oil-slick. “Uh,” he managed, seeing her expression chill a little at his staring. “He likes your bike,” he got out, feeling about as intelligent as a caveman. Worse. Some kind of sentient sludge.

 

Her expression cleared just like that and she turned to Jihoon-ah, giving a few steps closer to start talking to him. They jabbered excitedly at each other, discussing arcane technological numbers he didn’t have a hope of understanding. He stood back to try and scrape his thoughts together. He had a type, he _did_ , funny and cute and soft like Sora-ssi, people that he could protect and look out for, not this woman with the admittedly great backside and too-flashy look and penchant for bikes and leathers.

 

 _Oh dear god_.

 

Later, when she roared off and Jihoon pouted because he didn’t have a helmet and couldn’t go with, he pinched his eyes shut, turning abruptly to leave.

 

“He likes your bike,” Jihoon mimicked savagely behind him.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Seungcheol gritted out.

 

=======================================================

 

Seokmin wandered down the corridor in search of bottled water, too tired to contemplate anything but huddling somewhere in a corner and looking at his kitten feed to clean his soul. As much as he loved the new apartment it still didn’t feel like home to him, especially not with all the new smells and sounds. If it hadn’t been for Mingyu, he would have felt homesick; his bandmate kept them too busy cleaning up and eating and talking about a thousand and one pieces of couture to get a moment to feel homesick.

 

Moments like this, with a sore throat from a brutal vocal practice, he kind of wished he could go back to his old dorm and curl up on his bunk-bed in the corner, and fall asleep to the sounds of the others around him.

 

Shaking his head, he wandered into their little kitchen, almost bumping into Sora-ssi. She stood in front of the coffee maker, looking at it as if it was some kind of alien machinery, and her eyes darted to-and-fro behind the glasses perched on her nose. She looked cute and somehow utterly frightened, as if she didn’t know how it worked.

 

“Sora-ssi?” he greeted gently. “Are you okay?”

 

The tamper nearly flew out of her hand as she turned, ducking away from him as she registered the sound beside her, and fear clouded her uncertain gaze. Seconds later, cheeks reddening, she swallowed and straightened. “I’m sorry. Um, DK- _sunbaenim_.” Her bow nearly made her glasses fall off as well, and suddenly she didn’t so much look like a cute, hot girl as a small disaster zone wandering around. “Hello… good evening.”

 

Seokmin’s lips twitched. His hands twitched too, from the need to pet her on the head despite her street-style fashion and old, almost-ruined boots. “I was just about to make myself a cup. Could I make you one too?”

 

Slowly, very slowly, she surrendered the tamper into his waiting palm, and the sensation of short nails across his skin made him want to shiver. Ignoring it, he turned to start brewing the coffee.

 

“I’ve never worked with one before,” she admitted after a couple of silent moments. “I’d read the instructions but I can’t see tiny script all that well yet. I don’t know why I can memorise dances and not how to make a stupid cup of coffee.”

 

Seokmin shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Idly, he hummed as he worked, concentrating on the earworm Seungkwan had been singing earlier, and was surprised to hear her join in. She didn’t sing too loudly, just the barest hint of sound, but her voice easily stretched to the descant notes he normally had to work to reach. “Here,” he murmured as he finished the coffee, adding ice and handing it to her. “Don’t tell Jiminie- _hyung_ I corrupted your throat.”

 

Sipping, Sora sighed with delight and gave him a huge smile. “Promise I won’t. Thanks for the coffee.”

 

Later, when he watched the feed and let his thoughts hum down from a steady roar, he replayed that smile and grinned like a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The new dorm building is inspired by [this project](http://www.businessinsider.com/taiwan-smog-agora-garden-twisting-tower-vincent-callebaut-photos-2017-8?IR=T#callebaut-a-belgian-architect-is-known-for-his-greenery-filled-buildings-he-sees-the-new-tower-as-a-small-step-toward-a-more-sustainable-future-12) from Vincent Callebaut. I love eco-architecture! 
>   2. I swear, my RNG to decide who slept where is as much a Soonhoon fan as I am, and almost as generous with Verkwan. 
>   3. Although there are only 40 condos in the original building, this one has more, at eight per floor for ten floors. The rest are taken up by shops, the gym, the restaurant and the lobby. 
>   4. In order to minimise upkeep and damage, the walls were sealed with a few layers of transparent plastic impregnated with an LED layer, thus creating the display walls. 
>   5. Wonwoo is finally getting somewhere with his studies. 
>   6. As in previous chapters, my Jihoon is a sucker for pretty bikes. And yes, a Hayabusa is bigger than he is, and at least four times as heavy. 
>   7. The kind of hair I mean by oil slick can be found [here](https://www.tricociuniversity.edu/tricoci/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/7.jpg). Not very traditionally Korean at all, if the eyes didn't give it away... 
>   8. I can't write Seokmin very well. My heart simply can't take those levels of sunshine and softness.
> 



	36. Chapter 36

Yoongi has been on this particular chase before, and had reaped no rewards from it. He had learnt from that chase. A naga that didn’t want to be found wouldn’t be. Constructed as guardians of the divine originally, they were as wily as dragons when they didn’t want to be found, and their ability to cross ward lines was fast giving him a headache. This one, however… this one had none of the training of her forebears, and little native intelligence that had not been beat out of her.

 

This one would go to ground in familiar territory that it felt safe in, which meant…

 

…he sighed as he pushed open the door to his apartment and entered, finding her huddled on his kitchen floor again. She was, if possible, even dirtier this time than before, though she didn’t have a fever, thank goodness. “I told you to use the bed last time,” he muttered as he crossed to the fridge and hauled out a container of milk, pouring it into the closest, cleanest mug he had and popping it into the microwave. “And the shower. I definitely told you to use the shower.”

 

The girl looked up at him with huge eyes, likely too tired to keep up the illusion of being human. Her pupils, vertically slitted, were very large. “The bed doesn’t smell right,” she pointed out. “It’s not mine.”

 

“And the shower?”

 

She considered him for a long time before she let her chin rest on her kneecaps and gave a shrug. It was odd to see it, so quintessentially teenaged that it didn’t look entirely right on her bony frame. He sighed and shook his head, waiting until the milk was heated through before he turned to offer it to her. “Drink,” he ordered, and watched her drink it down in great big gulps. “He’s heartbroken. You didn’t have to tell him like that.”

 

“I didn’t know how to tell him,” she muttered into the mug. “And I couldn’t stay there any longer and look at something so pure. I’ve been dirtied enough in my life that I don’t want to dirty someone else, especially not him.”

 

Yoongi sank down on his haunches in front of her. “You didn’t want another leash,” he whispered. “It’s understandable. I’m not sure why you killed the organization…”

 

She put the mug down next to her. “They had my sister,” she said. “My older sister, but Luli was… in her head, she was a child. I thought she would be safe where I left her, but they found her and compelled me to come here.” Her eyes found his. “I thought I had buried her identity, I thought she would be safe in the hospital I put her in. She was happy there. But someone back home talked, and it took them months, but they tracked her down, and they took her. They offered me the contract to come out here and kill you or your mate. I took it because I didn’t have a choice. She’s the only thing I had left in life.”

 

He reached to take the mug and heat up another helping of milk. “So you came here and you didn’t kill us? Why not?”

 

“I ran out of time,” she whispered. “Not from them, it was an open-ended contract. But my sister, you see. My sister. Even though she was a kid mentally, she had the odd period where she thought like the adult she was. They didn’t watch her closely enough, didn’t take care of her, and I could only guess that she must have understood where she was and what she was being used for. She killed herself.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can explain to you what it feels like, that your own sister would rather kill herself than ‘be an inconvenience any longer’. I thought I had already been dead inside, but I sat on that step behind the dorm and I cried and cried. And then a boy was kind to me.”

 

Yoongi grimaced as he handed her the second mug of milk. “So you killed the assassins?”

 

“Three of them. Once, a bomb, once a sniper, and once the Edge. But as I lay here, poisoned, I knew it’d never end whilst they were still out there. And I knew, I _knew_ , Yoongi-ge, that killing them would render me even further beyond the pale. And I did it anyway, and stepped away, because it was true: I didn’t need to protect him or any of you any longer, and he’d get dirtied trying to accept my deeds and my friendship.”

 

“You are such a stupid girl,” Yoongi finally got out. “Hearts don’t work like that. Friendship doesn’t work like that. What will you do now?”

 

The girl shrugged slowly, drinking the milk. “I don’t have a purpose any longer,” she finally said as she finished it.

 

Yoongi tilted his head. “What if I have a purpose for you?”

 

“No more assassinations,” she said stolidly as she stood and stretched.

 

“No,” Yoongi agreed. “I want you to protect someone for me instead. A very important person.”

 

“Your mate?”

 

Yoongi grinned and shook his head. “Oh no,” he murmured. “Someone else entirely.”

 

===========================================

 

The chimes sounded sweetly through the large open structure of the _hanok_ , with servants’ muffled footsteps treading like ghosts through its halls. Off to the side, from a large room left open to capture whatever breeze it could, came faster, frantic footsteps, sounding hitched and harried like prey trying to outrun a predator. Chan had been at the practice for an hour already, and was fast reaching his limits. It was like Minghao- _hyung_ had said about the exercises they did in the mornings, it worked different muscle groups than dancing did. Right now, all he was doing was running away, evading the streak of blonde that tried to tap him with a short stick.

 

He could feel the burn in his thighs and lungs, and knew that Tae- _hyung_ was playing with him. With the speed the gumiho was capable of, he could have ended him inside one gasp, but that wasn’t the aim. He wasn’t sure what the aim was anymore; all that resounded in his mind this deep into the session is the need not to be as clumsy as he felt.

 

Not that it’d help. He had been killed over fifty times so far, and didn’t expect the next minutes to be any different.

 

“Don’t use your eyes,” Kookie- _hyung_ called lazily. “You can’t run away looking over your shoulder.”

 

_I can’t run away at all. He’s too fast…_

“Focus on keeping your breathing constant!”

 

_I’m not like you, my lungs don’t listen to me like that!_

“Faster, Channie!”

 

He inhaled desperately, tried to push a little more speed out of his legs, and felt the short stick hit him on the shoulder for his troubles. Shuddering, he sank down just where he was and tried to breathe. It didn’t want to come naturally.

 

Tae- _hyung_ let him have his moment before he tossed a towel over his head and handed him a small bottle of water. It wasn’t cold, not like he wanted, but he had learnt that lesson fairly quickly. The first time he had guzzled down an entire bottle of ice water and spent half an hour with a sore, cramped stomach. Now it was tepid, laced with electrolytes, and he sipped it slowly, concentrating on his breathing instead.

 

Kookie- _hyung_ sank down on his haunches next to him, lifting one corner of the towel to peek at his red-red face beneath. “Well done,” he said gently. “Sixty-one captures is a new record for you.”

 

“I don’t know, _hyung_ ,” he muttered, wincing at the burning in his feet. He’d have to buy new sneakers if he went on like this; between running and dancing this pair was fast seeing the end. “That’s an awful lot of death.”

 

“Well, yes. But if it was easy, you wouldn’t need to do this, right?” the dragon reasoned. “Tae-Tae is over a millennium old, and he’s been doing this for eight hundred of those years. If he wasn’t better than you at it I’d kick his ass. Trust me, you _are_ getting better. Do you want to shower here, or at home?”

 

Chan plucked up his courage and stood, ruffling his hair with the towel before he glanced at the way Tae- _hyung_ stood at the doorway as if he was watching something miles away. This deep in Bukhansan there wasn’t much noise, not as much as he would have expected. “I think I’ll shower here, _hyung_ , if you don’t mind. It’ll save me a little time before we have to get in the vans.”

 

“Hm, for the jacket re-do, right?”

 

Chan scrunched his nose and nodded. They had done promo pictures months ago, and all of it had seemed okay, until whoever handled such things in the firm found out that the drive storage had been corrupted. Not only did they lose their work, but the other idols’ as well, and everyone was scrambling to get their shots retaken whilst the good weather lasted. Luckily the music storage had been more secure, or they’d have lost all the masters as well.

 

Chalk one up for Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s tight-ass insistence on having a copy of everything stored at home as well.

 

“Jungkookie…” Tae- _hyung_ called from where he stood, with something delicate, anticipatory, and almost vulpine in his tone. “They’re almost here. Channie, go and take that shower.”

 

“Alright… thank you, Tae- _hyung_.” Chan blinked and nodded dumbly, taking a peek outside as he passed. He couldn’t see anything. He shrugged and made for the bathroom in the _gumiho’s_ suite. Fifteen minutes later, somewhat refreshed, he meandered down the path to the gate in the company of one of the guards, and was escorted through to the complex without the opportunity to ask who ‘they’ were and why they were coming.

 

He crossed the road and entered their new dorm, wandering off to the elevators without getting lost in the transparent tiling and immense green walls. It took him no time at all to get to the twelfth floor. When he arrived at his dorm there were already bags packed outside, and Jisoo- _hyung_ beckoned him in. “I already packed your bathroom stuff in your bag,” his _hyung_ said. “Go and take care of what clothes you want to take with. Sunny clothes should do, but take a jacket and tracksuit in case it gets cold. I’ll make you a quick snack. Scoot.”

 

Chan scooted, suddenly grateful that he was living in Jisoo- _hyung_ ’s room. He was caring and sensible, even if he did tease him at times. His bag was already waiting on his bed, with the toiletries neatly tucked in one corner as they were going to sleep over a night, with a cute bear sticker on the outside of the bag with a checklist of what to pack. He scanned it quickly, tucked an extra pair of underwear into his second pair of trainers and zipped everything up, barely making it in under the line. The snack turned out to be reheated kimchi jjigae from Mingyu- _hyung_ , which he wasn’t mad at all about, and he ambled along in the back of the lot of boys as they headed to the vans.

 

===========================================

 

“Channie, go and take that shower,” Tae _hyung_ ordered, staring at the sky. To say that he had some compunctions about Yoongi’s suggestion was to make light of the matter. Still, he waited with Jungkookie’s arm around his waist as the young idol went to shower, and when Yoongi- _hyung_ and the girl materialised on the steps of the hanok’s porch he just _looked_. Her bow was deep enough, not that he really cared about such things, but the rest of her was utterly unimpressive: twig body, dull glance and hair that might have looked better on the actual mop she got it from.

 

And yet… and yet there was a flicker of _something_ , perhaps in the way she stood or the way her arms hung at her sides, that warned him not to dismiss her lightly. “Hello,” he said, and would have stepped from Jungkookie’s embrace if the darned dragon didn’t push in between them with eyes narrowed. On the one hand he could understand that his boyfriend was trying to protect him from a notorious assassin. On the other hand, he wanted to thwack him so hard upside the head that he saw stars.

 

Her head tilted sideways, enough so that she could still see a sliver of him past Jungkookie’s muscular frame. “Hello.”

 

“I don’t know about this, Yoongi- _hyung_ ,” Jungkookie started. “If she’s five foot it’s a lot. She looks like I could sneeze through her.”

 

Tae _hyung_ watched the girl’s face as the dragon spoke. She didn’t twitch or get angry – Jiminie would definitely have smacked Jungkookie on the back of the head by now – but just stood there calmly staring at them both. “You won’t offer to duel him either,” he guessed as he considered her. “To make him feel more comfortable, or to show off?” Still more silence. “But I can’t trust you that easily. I’ll acknowledge that you kill mundane thugs very well, but I don’t know anything about…”

 

It was as far as he got.

 

He was as fast as they came, able to girdle the Earth in minutes, and Jungkookie nearly as fast (and a bit stronger, if he had to admit it), but her movement had nothing to do with speed. He could have anticipated her if he _saw_ her but she moved oddly, as if she didn’t go through the intervening distance. Time slowed down for him: one blink, and Jungkookie was flying away, torn away from him with strength he didn’t expect to sail across the room. Another blink, and she had him down on the floor as well, black knife already slowly pressing against his carotid. They landed together with a thump-thump of forces and an eye-roll from Yoongi- _hyung_.

 

“Are we done playing?” his _hyung_ asked idly.

 

Tae _hyung_ smiled up at the girl that held his hands in his life and lifted a hand to stop an angry dragon rushing in from the side. “Let me introduce you to my sister,” he said. “And we’ll see if she takes to you.”

 

Five minutes later Soomi, who perhaps had a sixth sense about these things, promptly crawled out of her crib and onto the girl’s lap, settling back in to sleep. The girl’s mouth twitched, then slowly spread into a smile that didn’t crack her face.

 

“Thank you,” Yoongi murmured to him. “She’ll be a good protector, and maybe we can haul her back from the brink yet.”

 

===========================================

 

It felt a little weird to have a passport. Seungkwan had applied for his at the same time as the others’, and had used it for the previous shoot but now, going through it and seeing entry and exit stamps kind of made him feel like a world traveller. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed delicately, still trying to get used to the strange smell of the visa document. He wrinkled his nose and popped it back in its plastic cover – they had been threatened with the wrath of Seungmin- _hyung_ if they lost it. They weren’t going that much out of the country, first a ferry and then a train.

 

He had lucked out, sitting next to Channie for both the trips, and he considered the younger boy over the packet of vegetable chips on the seat between them. Their maknae had been on a fitness kick as of late, and no one really talked about why, but it was already having an effect on him: the childish features of his face was already thinning and cheekbones starting to show, not to mention the sharp jawline emerging. On top of that, clearly seen with the shorts he had on, his thighs were gaining a lot of definition from muscle, almost as much as Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s.

 

“Geez, Channie,” he said teasingly. “What kind of dancing are you doing these days to earn those?” He reached a finger to poke at a muscle bundle and blinked. Much harder than he expected, even at rest. “Wow.”

 

Next to him Chan flushed a little, but he also got a little shit-eating grin. “It’s called the gym, _hyung_ , you should try it out sometime.”

 

The remark didn’t bother Seungkwan as much as it would have just a few weeks ago. He knew he was fit and at a good position with his body weight, Jiminie- _hyung_ had managed to get that paralysing fear out of him, and even Hansolie’s song had helped. “What a savage maknae we have,” he teased right back. “Are you trying to become as much of a muscle pig as Jungkook- _hyung_? Is it a maknae thing?”

 

Chan mumbled something, looking uneasy for a moment, before he grumped. “I’m tired of all of you protecting me. I want to be able to do some of the protection as well. Not just you, but… all of us, I guess?”

 

Seungkwan wanted to sigh. He really had no idea what to say to Chan; his point was well made, but sounded sad. “Channie,” he finally tried. “If it’s what makes you happy then I’m all for it, okay? But I missed you at noraebang the other night, take a break every so often and come out with us as well, okay? I don’t want to see you just at practice.”

 

Biting his lip, Chan nodded before he looked around and wiggled a little closer. “Speaking of practice,” he muttered softly. “I saw Seokmin- _hyung_ making a cup of coffee the other night.”

 

“Coffee’s not on the list though…”

 

“I know!” Chan said. “But he wasn’t making it for himself, he was making it for a _girl_. Our _hyung_ just deadass pretended that he was going to have one as well and made one for her. And they sang that song, you know? That OST song you’re so fond of. I mean, he started, and she joined in without looking uncomfortable, and then he just stared at the machine grinning like a loser after she left.”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh,” he got out softly. “Was she cute?”

 

“It was Sora-ssi,” Chan admitted. “She had these glasses on, and torn black jeans and t-shirt, with a flannel around her hips, but… yes? She looked really, _really_ cute, and soft. I should have known _hyung_ ’s type would be a cute girl with a great smile.”

 

“Oh,” Seungkwan got out, still shocked. Then, softer, “Ohh. But you…”

 

Chan managed a smile. “It’s okay, _hyung_. I had a long talk with Yoongi- _hyung_. It really was just a crush, and I gotta concentrate on being Dino right now.”

 

===========================================

 

With the shoot done through the punishingly hot hours of the day and all local insects chased away from the hip-hop team, the boys were settled in a series of little chalets right on the water watching dawn go down as Seungcheol and Seungmin- _hyung_ started the fire. Some of them were still swimming, some were just sleeping on the warm sand, with Jihoon being so covered in sand that he looked like a pink-haired panda bear, all big belly and tiny head. It didn’t seem to matter though; last time Jisoo had checked in on him he was sleeping so hard he was right on the edge of snoring. The heat _had_ been frightful.

 

Running his hands through his hair, Jisoo picked up a towel and a thin shirt to go with his swimming trunks, but deviated when he saw a lone figure sitting at the edge of the pier, staring down into the water. “Hannie,” he murmured gently as he closed in on his friend, sinking down on the warm wood next to him. “Why aren’t you back there making the kids wave huge palm fronds and bear drinks in little coconuts?”

 

“Have you seen the kids?” Jeonghan retorted. “It’d be easier to teach a fish to breathe on land than it’d be to teach them not to spill. Mingyu-ah fell five times today. Five times. He still thinks the air has it out for him.”

 

Jisoo laughed. “Okay. You have a point. Still, why are you sitting out here?”

 

“I’m trying to clear my thoughts,” Jeonghan admitted. “There’s a lot going on now just before comeback, and I’ve been thinking about a few things. I’ve got kind of a personal question to ask and I’m not sure how to ask it.”

 

“Best way is normally just to ask it, as my teacher back home said.”

 

Jeonghan took a deep breath. “Have you ever had sex with a guy?” he got out after a few moments.

 

Jisoo nearly choked on a lung full of air, coughing desperately. “I… wow, that’s some kind of question. Um, no. I haven’t. I once had sex with a girl, but I wouldn’t call that the same thing. It was just… a thing. I think I lasted maybe five minutes.” He glanced sideways at Jeonghan’s profile. “Why?”

 

Jeonghan swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that. I mean, I’ve not even seen gay porn, not that I’d ever watch it in my bedroom with one of the kids around. Not that I wanted to do anything right now, not just before the comeback but I thought… maybe… one day?” He shot a shy glance back. “What happened with Sora-ssi… it made me realise that you meant a lot to me, not just as a friend. I don’t know if you wanted to be just friends with benefits or…”

 

“Hold up,” Jisoo said, looking around them. “I’m thinking this might be a conversation we should rather hold out of sight.” Jumping up, he pulled Jeonghan up by the hand as well and led the way off the pier, idling in behind the line of huts towards the jungle at the edge of the beach. It was a quiet walk, only broken by the odd stumble and grumble, until they were beyond the second line of trees and he turned to look at his companion.

 

“Here?” Jeonghan asked, still trying to figure out a safe spot to stand on. “Joshuji, if I stumble and break my face on a coconut, I’m going to sue your pants off. This is totally not safe, they’re going to come looking soon…”

 

“Hannie, shh for a second.” Smiling into the darkness, Jisoo reached out to cup his friend’s face in his hands, leaning in slowly.

 

Jeonghan, nigh-blind and unsure of his footing, froze as he felt gentle lips against his. He understood the darkness now; it would hide them from the people on the beach and in the water, and in the seclusion he was forced to feel more than see. His friend’s lips tasted like salt spray from earlier, but they soothed the heat that roared to life as his back met a tree. Toes curling in his feet, he settled his hands on the slim waist before him and pulled, bringing them flush together.

 

He moaned softly, suddenly greedy, and sank one hand into his friend’s hair, tilting his head back to dominate the long kiss. Jisoo’s lips might have tasted like salt and fire, but his tongue tasted of the juice earlier and an impossible sweetness that tingled, reminding him of all the really great things in life: lying down in sunshine, the warmth of a duvet, really good food and his eyes, sparkling mischievously.

 

Long minutes later, when both vocalists had to have air, Jisoo pulled away a little. “I don’t want to be your friend with benefits, Hannie,” he whispered in the dark. “I want to be your boyfriend. Even if it is just to hold hands sometimes. We can figure the sex part out later, when we’re both ready for it.”

 

“Promise?” Jeonghan asked, feeling vulnerable but oddly amused at the delicate feel of the situation; for all they were two devils, it felt soft and good and _right_.

 

“Promise. Come on, let’s go sit beside the fire.”

 

===========================================

 

Soonyoung reached up to his teased and frizzed hair, frowning at the silvery-blonde mess. It was out of his eyes, thanks to a blue bandanna, but it still looked as if he had pushed his finger too deeply into an electrical outlet. It matched somewhat with the fingerless blue glove and the tie around his right arm, but the outfit made him feel a little… bargain bad. Still, it was loose and easy to dance in, and that was all that counted.

 

He breathed out the tension and slowly stretched up, then sideways, warming up his ligaments before the showcase started. He liked the time beforehand, hearing the vocalists doing the last of their scales, hearing the rappers spit out nonsense syllables to get their tongues warmed up. It was past that though, way past it; the vocal team were already on stage and would finish any second now. He glanced back over his small crew, mouth set into a thoughtful line. Jun looked amazing and Minghao-ah looked… well, he still looked too thin, but least his hair was relaxing from that ridiculous meat-perm they gave it. Channie looked better than good, almost aglow with energy.

 

“Thirty seconds,” the stage hand whispered above the noise of DK and Seungkwan doing what they did best.

 

Soonyoung nodded and collected his boys, stepping to the side. Reaching out, he huddled them close, shoulder to shoulder. “Jun- _hyung_ , start us off for tonight.”

 

The eldest nodded and looked at each of them intently. “Let’s just go kick ass,” he finally muttered. “We’re the performance unit, let’s go out there and dance so hard the stage bursts into fire. We can do this. Fighting!”

 

“Fighting!” they all chorused in ragged whispers, then ran out onto the dark stage to take their positions for OMG. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jihoon give him a thumbs-up; grinning, he winked back at him and lay down, feeling the thumping bass already start.

 

“Oh my god…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Yoongi picks up a stray. He's such a grumpy bear at times, but he inspires trust in people, I think. 
>   2. I've often been told that running away is a better defence than one would think, especially if you're outweighed or outclassed. That being said, I do feel sorry for Chan. 
>   3. Backups are very important, supremely so. I can't count how many times I've had data just whoosh away on me, or a customer thinks they don't need to keep backups. Also, industrial espionage. 
>   4. Canon - Chan had a huge glo-up around seventeen, not only his face changing shape, but his muscles starting to come in. I pity people that have to do thigh-wrestling with him. 
>   5. Jeonghan and Jisoo make the moves. Almost all the moves, but this still feels awkward. Still, what I remember from dating just before university is a large amount of awkward. None of those conversations started with 'how to have sex', so double awkward, but to be fair Jeonghan's been worrying about this for a few chapters now. 
>   6. The beginning of the showcase. I must have watched those videos a hundred times by now. This is where the band will start going heavily on the AU rails. 
> 



	37. Chapter 37

Backstage life was crazy.

 

Seungkwan rushed off the stage through the people like ants, barely missing Jun- _hyung_ as they went up for OMG. He had perhaps three minutes to put on his outfit for Rock, which wasn’t much at all if you looked at the clothes the stylist noonas sometimes put them in. Tearing his old set off, he mentally apologised for leaving them crumpled, hopping into the second casual look. He was still busy tugging his shirt straight when he hopped out again, immediately getting a face full of touch-up brushes.

 

“Hold your eyes closed,” she muttered, stretching a little to dab at his forehead with a tissue.

 

“Yes, noona,” he mumbled, sinking down a little so that she could reach. He wasn’t all that tall, but between her lack of height and his shoe-lifts, it was a respectable distance. Seconds later, getting his lip tint retouched, he couldn’t even move his mouth, and tried not to breathe through his nose too much. Singing was wonderful abdominal exercise, but his still hurt from the continuous support needed, and he mentally conceded that the performance unit might have something with all the Pilates exercises they were doing.

 

Fifteen seconds later, dabbed dry and tint applied, he hurried back to the stage and took the microphone held to him by one of the stage hands, bobbing a thanks, pulling into his spot next to Seokmin- _hyung_. They didn’t say anything, just exchanged fist-bumps for encouragement, and he set to watching the last of OMG, peeking at the monitor above them that showed audience reactions. It was only a brief look, almost dismissive, but a flash of something attracted his attention back to it. It was a shimmer, a faint smear that looked like dirt – if dirt had a person shape. He thought a curse before he could help himself, and reached out to grab Jeonghan- _hyung_ , eyes desperate on his.

 

He stretched up the little bit to be able to whisper in his ear. “ _Hyung_ , check the monitor. Top right. Is that someone hiding?”

 

Jeonghan frowned at him, looked and shook his head slowly. “I don’t see anything?” he hissed softly. “Just reporters and staff. Let me… Jihoonie!” Snagging Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s sleeve, he passed on the message and pointed; from the way that Jihoon’s eyes widened, it was clear that  _he_  could see something weird.

 

OMG finished and the lights dimmed, giving them barely enough stage to pull up in formation around the performance unit; hip-hop came from the left of the stage as they ran up from the right. Hansol had a quizzical look on his face, a vagueness that disappeared when the stage lights came back on, and the song kicked off.

 

Seungkwan tried to keep his eyes on the mass of reporters and executives as the song’s windmill choreography began, but the stage lights were bright and he could only catch a faint smear moving to his right. To one side, Hansol stumbled fractionally as they separated, tripping on nothing, and Seungkwan knew something had happened, but in the next second Seungcheol- _hyung_ was there, fooling around with him, making it look like a purposeful act. For all his _hyung_ couldn’t lie very well when put on the spot, he could cover like a pro.

 

Another turn before he sang the hook louder than practice from sheer nervousness, seeing a brief flustered look from Seokmin- _hyung_.

 

_Is it one of the tengu? But I don’t see them at all normally…_

 

He was still dancing, right at the first chorus, when Jeonghan turned to glare off-stage with a face white from shock, looking towards the corner he had been trying to see. “Bomb!” his _hyung_ shouted. “He has a bomb!”

 

Seungkwan didn’t pause to think. It was entirely too much like the movies he had seen; later he’d rant at himself for being so stupid, but now his body decided and he lurched forward.

 

He felt the air slide past him in slow motion as he ran and jumped from the stage, tackling the smear with screams sounding around him. His momentum carried them into one of the journalists’ table, people jerking as it smashed sideways with a kick of pain in his gut. The thing in his arms scratched and punched at him, and the illusion of invisibility parted briefly to show a man with Chinese features. The lights flashed on, the music screeched to a halt, and from the corner of his eye he saw people scrambling away from them, heading for the exits. They jammed up there, pushing and squeezing.

 

There was something between his body and the bomber’s, something hard and blocky and uncomfortable that dug into his stomach. The bomb, likely, and he shuddered to think he was that close to something that could rip him apart. He scrabbled desperately for the guy’s arms, eventually managing to grab them around the wrists. He slammed them down against the floor once, then twice, feeling the pain in the back of his own fingers. Something skittered away, and he hoped it was a remote.

 

“Seungkwan-ah!”

 

 _Seungcheol-hyung,_ his mind insisted, despite the sound being too slow, almost like the movement of a mountain. Then,  _It sounds like I’m underwater?_

 

“ _Hyung_?” he croaked out. “ _Hyung_ , you should… you should go away.”

 

“I’m not leaving.”  _That_  was Hansol, sounding particularly intractable.

 

“ _Hyung,_ ” Seungkwan implored. “Please.”

 

He shut his eyes to the sound of someone wrestling Hansol away, dragging him backstage and hopefully away. It fell silent around him, silence only broken by the panting of the man in his arms and the odd humming flicker of a faulty tube light somewhere in the room. “Why are you doing this? We’ve done nothing to you.”

 

“You killed my daughter.”

 

Seungkwan almost reared off him with shock at the perfect Korean. “What? I’ve never killed anyone in my life! I’ve certainly not been anywhere close to your daughter!”

 

“You killed my daughter.”

 

“I didn’t…”

 

“You killed my daughter.”

 

Seungkwan stared at the unidentifiable smear turned into a struggling man beneath him, panic growing in a slow knot in his stomach. He couldn’t shake the fact that something was very wrong.

 

Something entered the room, moving slowly. Still holding the man down, all Seungkwan could see was something vaguely robotic. It rolled up to his side with a subdued whir, and a camera atop it moved to focus on him as he twisted his head to look at it. He struggled to focus, adrenaline fighting with fatigue.

 

“Boo Seungkwan- _ssi_?” came a voice from it, a male one that sounded calm and practical. “Boo Seungkwan- _ssi_ , good morning, I’m Special Tactical Officer Ong Eunwoo from the counterterrorism unit. My robot’s name is Wally. How are you doing?”

 

Seungkwan’s mind stuttered. “Like… the movie? I… think I’m fine?”

 

“Yes,” came the man’s voice. “I’m glad to hear it. Do you think you could lift just a little so that I can see what the situation is?”

 

 _But… but a robot,_  Seungkwan’s mind stuttered.  _How are you even going to see through that camera? The angle is all wrong…_ He clamped down on that thought, born from too many years of automatically calculating sight angles. “Um, I’m not sure? He’s kinda strong, Special Tactical Officer. I’m afraid he’s going to do something.”

 

The robot whirred a little closer. “Just a little at a time, I’ll tell you when to stop.”

 

Grimacing, Seungkwan did as told, inching his torso up little by little. He was barely up at all when the robot extended what looked like an optical cable of some sort, wiggling it in beneath him easily. He could feel it move to and fro, perhaps considering the device from all angles, before it pulled back.

 

“I’m sending two of my colleagues in, Boo Seungkwan- _ssi_ , just hold on for a couple more moments, okay?”

 

Seungkwan managed to nod just a little, resting back down on the man’s inert body. It felt like a further eternity before more sounds at the door signalled the promised personnel. They were both dressed in strange outfits that made them look and move as carefully as turtles. One of them knelt down to take the man’s arms from Seungkwan, and the other took hold of his ankles. “Move off, please,” one said from behind his visor, wrangling a knee up on the man’s right shoulder.

 

Complying, he rolled off and scurried away, getting a clear look for the first time. Stripped of the illusion, the man had a vest of some sort strapped on him, complete with a tangle of wires and strappy bits and brown brick things he thought might be explosives. Right in front, daubed with blood, was what looked like a computer part of some sort, with a corner sheared off. Hesitantly, he reached down, unwilling to look, and felt a piece of  _something_  stuck to him. In him? He wasn’t sure, he could feel movement but no pain.

 

“Um…” he quavered. “A piece…”

 

The man opposite him lifted his head. “Eunwoo- _ssi_ , call a medtech. Boo Seungkwan- _ssi_ , can you walk, or…?”

 

Seungkwan carefully gave a step, then two, and exited without further comment, bent slightly forward. The further he walked, the faster he walked, until he was nearly running when he exited the room. Panic once suppressed crashed over him, and he shouted as arms lashed around him, catching him in a firm grip.

 

He struggled, but there seemed to be no strength in his limbs, and the woman easily got him down to the floor and his shirt yanked open. “Calm down!” she called loudly, hands keeping him down. “Calm down, I’m the medtech!” Her hands were as firm as any man’s, and she leant down on his shoulders as if she did it all the time. “Calm down, Seungkwan-ah, I just need a quick look, just to make sure your wound will hold until the ambulance. Come on, breathe with me, okay? Slowly, in and out, in and out…”

 

It took a few moments to come down from his sudden panic, but slowing his breathing down seemed to work like a tranquiliser; each breath made him feel calmer, until he shuddered and stilled beneath her. “…sorry,” he got out, so embarrassed he fell back to Jeju-do satoori. “So sorry, I dunno…”

 

The woman smiled down at him as she sat back. “It’s okay, Hero- _ssi_ , it’s fine. How are you feeling, are you hurt?”

 

Seungkwan frowned as he tried to answer the question. “I don’t feel anything, but I’m very confused. Everything’s spinning in my mind.”

 

She mhmed as she made sure her gloves were on firmly and hitched his belt open, tugging the pants just a little down. “To be expected, really, between the adrenaline and the shock. Just keep on breathing slowly for me, okay? And tell me immediately if you feel something painful. The adrenaline could be masking your pain, but we don’t want you hurt any more than you are already, right? What you did was very brave, Hero- _ssi_ , but a little stupid, right? Where’d you learn to dive like that? Do you like sports?”

 

Seungkwan let his head thud down on the ground. “I... I like volleyball,” he muttered. He firmed his jaw against the desire to look down. “I was kind of stupid. My leader is going to be so mad.”

 

“I’ll put in a good word for you, Hero- _ssi_ ,” she promised. “But it will have to wait a little bit, we need to get you into an ambulance. You’re going to need a few stitches at least. Give me a moment.” She turned her head to her shoulder and the handheld radio there. “Eunwoo- _ssi_? I’ve got your missing piece here. Can you can arrange for a stretcher for me through the vultures? We need to take this out at the hospital.”

 

“Roger that, Ga-in- _ssi_ ,” came the voice of the robot of earlier, overlaid with a crackle of static. “Containment’s cleared the device, so we can get you a full police team if you want. Can I pass on good news? His group manager is outside with our control officer, waiting for word.”

 

“He’s okay, the wound isn’t large, just bleeding a bit, but he’s gonna get hit by it any second now,” the medtech said. “What do you say, Boo Seungkwan- _ssi_? Want a nice stretcher?”

 

Seungkwan’s mind gave up on sanity. “I really like volleyball,” he croaked, making the woman laugh.

 

=====================================================

 

He wasn’t sure why he had expected the block to be deserted outside, given that there was a  _bomb_  in the building, but he had forgotten that journalists will be journalists even under the threat of death. There was a wide cleared band around the building, but beyond it they stood in a circle three thick, all fighting for the best view. He could hear them shouting as the EMTs carried him out and transferred him to the wheeled bed, but it was a distant roar. “Ignore them,” the woman advised him. He had still not gotten her name, though a squint at her badge suggested her surname was Park.

 

“Hansol,” he stuttered. “I want to see Hansol, please… are they safe? Did they get out ok?”

 

The woman frowned down at him and spoke at her shoulder again. Moments later Seungmin- _hyung_ showed up at her side, complexion very white and pinched-looking.

 

“Hansol- _ssi_?” the woman questioned doubtfully.

 

“Lee Seungmin, at your service,” his _hyung_ got out. “I’m his manager. Chwe Hansol is one of the other members, but I don’t know if it’s a good thing for him to be here right now. Please, what’s the situation?”

 

“We’ll have to take him to the hospital, there’s a piece of circuitry board that needs to be removed. It can’t be done at the scene.”

 

“We have access to a private doctor…” Seungmin- _hyung_ began.

 

The woman shook her head immediately. “I’m sorry, but regulations state that it has to be a board-certified surgeon. I can’t…”

 

Seungkwan missed the rest of her words as he explained. The other team was carrying out a stretcher as well, but unlike him that person was definitely handcuffed to the frame and strapped down. Behind him, the journalists started going crazy, and a few hopped over the cordons for a better look, only to be chased down by the police present. He tried to ignore his name being shouted, but it was difficult, and a bone-deep shudder set in, even though he was warm under a blanket.

 

The woman – Park- _ssi_ – must have noticed, because she was on him in an instant; between her and her colleague, they had him inside the ambulance before he could complain, and Seungmin- _hyung_ was there as well, holding his hand and talking quietly to him. He couldn’t understand a _word_ , though he gasped as the drip went in and the male EMT injected something into it.

 

His last thought before he faded was that he wished he knew what was in it, because the lassitude that hit him felt like the most perfect sleep ever, and he went without complaint.

 

==================================================

 

He opened his eyes in a familiar place, seeing a very familiar ceiling over him and not the hospital one he would have expected. It had to be much later in the day if the sunset coming in through the window meant anything. Nearby, as he twisted his head to the side, he could see Jin- _hyung_ ’s excellent features bent close to another dark head. There was a subtle kind of pressure next to him, what felt like a body pressed down the length of his, and he knew from the shape of the hand in his that it was his Hansol.

 

Someone was reading in a language he didn’t know, not French but something a little more relaxed – Spanish? He didn’t understand a word in any case. “Jin- _hyung_?” he managed.

 

Jin- _hyung_ looked up and smiled at him; the other broke off and turned to face him. Park Sehun, with wide eyes and a vulnerable look to his face.

 

“Welcome back,” Jin- _hyung_ said. “I must say, for your usual level of stunt, Seungkwan-ah, this was rather underwhelming. I only had to take out two stitches and mend a small cut. Where are the zombie grandmothers? I have standards, you know.”

 

Seungkwan winched. “Sorry, _hyung_. Um, are you very angry?”

 

Jin- _hyung_ shrugged. “A little, but that’s to expect, isn’t it?”

 

“He won’t hit you,” Park Sehun piped up. “Jin- _hyung_ won’t hit you.”

 

It was an odd statement, but Jin- _hyung_ ’s quick frown dissuaded Seungkwan from asking. “Thank you,” he muttered as he sat up carefully, trying not to wake Hansol up. “I’ll go to the bathroom quickly if you don’t mind, Jin- _hyung_ , and then I’ll come and face the music.”

 

“But there’s no music?” Sehunie again.

 

“It’s a figure of speech, sweetheart,” Jin- _hyung_ explained. “It means that he’s ready to take his scolding. Go on, Seungkwanie, see you back just now.”

 

=========================================================

 

His _hyungdeul_ ranted a lot. Seungcheol- _hyung_ started. His mind giggled when he ‘passed the baton’ to Jeonghan- _hyung_ , who had a few very pointed things to say before Jisoo- _hyung_ got his chance. Lastly, as he scooted back to the room and slipped back into bed, prohibited from going out, Jin- _hyung_ had his turn as well. He was the most scathing of the lot, making Seungkwan feel an inch tall, and scooted out in a wreath of flames with his young assistant, who enjoined Seungkwan to sing, because that made everything better, and to rest out.

 

Feeling bone-tired, he slipped down to rest with his head on the pillow, inching surreptitiously closer to Hansol’s body for heat. It wasn’t until he sought out his hand that he realised the younger boy was awake. Hansol’s hand squeezed his, pulling him closer until they were joined shoulder to hip before he rolled over to rest half on Seungkwan, half-off.

 

“Oof,” Seungkwan complained. “You’re heavy.”

 

Hansol tucked his head onto the pillow beside Seungkwan’s. “Tell me, when you jumped on that bomb and considered the chance that you’d die, did you think that maybe I’d die too?”

 

Seungkwan frowned. “No, I heard someone pull you out, so…” Halfway through the sentence his mind kicked in and his words petered to a halt. “Oh.” With the bond, there was a good chance they would have died together, as inextricably linked as they were. “Oh shit.” He tilted his head the fraction needed to look at Hansol, and realised just how fulminously angry he was. “I… didn’t. I didn’t even think about that. Hansolie, I’m so sorry…”

 

Hansol’s hand bit in on his waist, searching for a moment over the place the wound should have been before his fingers dug into the curve just above his hips. “Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cover it, you know? Even if I had somehow not died, I would still have wanted to. You would have been _dead_ , Seungkwan. Not lost in another world, not in a dream or a vision, but _dead_. You’re not one of the _hyungdeul_ , immortal enough that we can drag you back somehow! And that part of me that can love, it would have been dead too.”

 

No matter all the shouting earlier, this was infinitely worse. He could still get past their scolding, even past Jin- _hyung_ ’s, but Hansol’s words hit him like someone kicking him repeatedly, driving home the message with every painful syllable. His eyes started to water and the hand on his waist flinched away.

 

“Don’t,” Hansol said raggedly. “Don’t cry. Tears aren’t an excuse. I deserve more than that. I’ve been trying to be with you, tried to help you see how wonderful you are. Some of the fans say all I can do is stare at you. I don’t know how much more or what I need to do to show you that I care, and to have you _care back._ I’m tired, _hyung_. Tell me what I need to do.”

 

The ‘ _hyung_ ’ hurt him, worse than the rest of the words, because it told him that Hansol was withdrawing, going back to seeing him only as an older brother. “Hansolie, no, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I know. Please… I don’t know what to say either.”

 

Hansol grimaced and pulled off, rolling away. “I don’t know what you can say either, but you let me know when you figure it out. Sleep well, _hyung_. I hope you’re not too tired.” Scooting out from underneath the blanket, he left the room with quick strides, taking great care not to slam the door behind him.

 

Moments later, when Jeonghan- _hyung_ came in, Seungkwan was in full sobbing mode, curling as if that could release the pain.


	38. Chapter 38

Seungkwan had had plenty of time to think about the events of the previous evening. After crying his heart out on Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s lap he had gone back to bed and had slept fitfully for the night. Not even waking up around three for a snack helped much. He was awake before anyone else, making coffee, preparing the disgusting breakfast he had still not gotten used to and showering quietly. One of his resolutions had been to do what he could to show Hansol he cared for him, thus the toothbrush he laid out for him, or the extra towel.

 

If it was painful sharing a dorm with Seungkwan, Hansol showed no sign of it as they got ready the next morning. He didn’t comment that Seungkwan handed him the extra towel, or made him a cup of coffee, and he certainly didn’t say anything beyond ‘good morning’ and ‘the van is here, _hyung_ , we should leave.’

 

It was a nightmare getting out of the dorm into the van. There were scores of journalists around trying to get an exclusive, and the rhino-spirit that lived on the fourth floor, Kamathi-ssi, had to help them through the gate and onto the road. Along the way, head held low, Seungkwan scrolled through the feed on their SNS sites, looking at the comments their fans had made. The fan-café was full of concern for his well-being, urging him to rest and take care of himself. It looked like there had been an overnight surge in people joining despite the showcase being cancelled.

 

One music critic, apparently one of the ones closest to being in his diving path, had gone into raptures not only about the upbeat, poppy music and the excellent dancing, but about the self-sacrifice and recklessness of the band members. There were hundreds of comments on that post, everything from calling him a hero to calling him stupid.

 

“…kwan-ah?”

 

He blinked and looked up at Mingyu- _hyung_ , who had a worried look on his face. “Sorry, _hyung_ , yes?” he asked quietly, voice nearly hidden behind Dino-ya and Wonwoo- _hyung_ taking sniping conversational shots at each other two rows up.

 

“I asked how you were feeling, Seungkwan-ah. It’s not sore anymore, is it? You’ll have to be careful, apparently healing takes a lot of energy, or so Wonwoo- _hyung_ says.”

 

“And you can’t dance like you’re healed for a few weeks,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ chipped in from the side. “No one that accesses the hospital records is going to believe that you magically healed stitches overnight.”

 

Seungkwan nodded woodenly, hands fluttering around his phone as he switched it off. “Yes, _hyung_ deul,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ve got enough energy for the day.”

 

Mingyu leant over to give him a hug, settling one arm around his shoulder. “Just sit down when you need to,” he urged.

 

Nodding, Seungkwan transferred his gaze out of the darkened window of the van.

 

Once was coincidence. Twice was lucky happenstance. Three times was really pushing belief, and he didn’t have all that much belief anymore. Next to their van, keeping pace with it, rode a leather-clad woman on a Hayabusa, easily controlling it through morning Seoul traffic. His breath misted slightly as he turned to rest a hand on the window, and somehow the twitch as she turned her head to him soothed him a little bit.

 

 _Hello,_ he mouthed, fingers spasming a little as he aborted a wave. _Good morning, mysterious lady._

Though he hadn’t spoken, and he certainly hadn’t called anyone’s attention to it, the words that arrived in his mind settled lightly and gently there, rendered in a friendly female voice. _Good morning. You feel sad today._

Seungkwan rested his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. _I did something very stupid._

 

_I read about the attempted bombing. Is that what you’re talking about?_

_No, not really. Not directly. I kind of screwed up with the person I like. We’re not really talking right now._

_I know the feeling. Take a deep breath and keep at it, okay? Hey, is that cute short guy with the blonde hair in the van today?_

_Do you mean Jihoon-hyung? He is, yes. Why? And if I might ask, why do you keep showing up with us?_

_I’ve been hired as one of your teachers, cutiepie, and general protection, and I get bored riding on the top of the van. Besides, Lilian gets lonely._

_Lilian?_

_My bike. Hey, cheer up, okay? It’s tough for me to keep up both directions of the conversation like this whilst I’m concentrating on the road, but we’ll talk later. I’ll help. My mother was a famous matchmaker._

Oddly, Seungkwan felt a little better as he turned from the window, and found the energy to lean forward and tap Jihoon- _hyung_ on his shoulder, waking him up. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said softly. “ _Hyung_ , look out the window.”

 

Jihoon- _hyung_ stared at him grumpily, almost pouting, clearly running on less than four hours of sleep again. Despite that, as he turned to look his face transformed and he seemed re-energized as he leant over Soonyoung- _hyung_. It was only because Seungkwan was already leaning forward that he saw him squeeze Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s hand with interlaced fingers; the third-youngest fell back, thoughtful.

 

_Had they been holding hands? That’s odd, normally Jihoon-hyung doesn’t like touching people._

He put it from his mind and, muttering an apology to Mingyu- _hyung_ , dug through his bag. Twisting, he tried to look Hansol directly into the eye and managed an uncertain smile as he offered half the diet-chocolate he had been saving for a week, offered it without being asked, and even gave him the part with the wrapper on because he hated his fingers getting chocolate-sticky. Hansol shot him a look as the commotion at Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s seat grew, and quietly nodded his thanks, looking away again afterwards.

 

 _Small steps,_ Seungkwan reminded himself as he settled back on his seat. It had been the one piece of advice Jeonghan- _hyung_ had given him last night. _Small steps._

====================================================

 

“…I don’t think I need to tell you, a professional idol, that there is such a thing as the bad kind of publicity, especially in this business,” their CEO told Seungkwan gravely. “Everything you do reflects on this company. In this specific case the feedback is generally positive and it has had an enormous effect on album sales, but this isn’t the kind of career in which you can just play a hero.”

 

“Yes, CEO-nim,” Seungkwan murmured, eyes downcast. “I apologise to you and to the rest of the staff. I would appreciate it if you would please read this letter of apology.” Bowing deeply, he leant forward to place the letter on the CEO’s desk.

 

The man grunted at him and pulled the letter closer, slowly opening the envelope and reading through the contents. He thought about it for a long time, long enough for Seungkwan to want to fidget, before he sighed and put it down on his desk. “At least you understand, it seems. You’re a polite sort of young man, Seungkwan-ssi, and a good one – have you apologised to your band yet?”

 

Seungkwan bit his lower lip and nodded. “Last night,” he whispered. “My _hyung_ deul were kind enough to explain the matter to me and accept my apology.”

 

“Alright,” the CEO said, nodding. “I believe you know what to do if you see a camera or a member of the press now. We’ll film a short segment for V-Live as well. You’re dismissed, Seungkwan-ssi. Please close the door on your way out.”

 

Seungkwan bowed again as soon as he stood, murmuring a goodbye, and got out of the office as quickly as he could, pulling the door gently shut. Outside, talking to one of the CEO’s assistants, Seungcheol- _hyung_ eyed him with a worried look, relaxing slowly as Seungkwan managed a smile. “Come on,” he muttered. “I think you’ve been scolded enough about this.”

 

===================================================

 

"...if I win, you have to buy me chocolate," Sora challenged. "If I win, I'll call you Wangja-nim for a week, okay, Soonyoung-ssi?"

 

Soonyoung stared at the girl in the mirror. Sora had taken a long time to get healed, longer than he thought she would with people like Namjoon- _hyung_ and Jin- _hyung_ looking after her. He had vaguely heard something about brain damage; looking at her now, he couldn’t quite believe she had been injured at all. Her eyes were clear and her posture straight. Even though she was still quite thin, she once again looked like the girl he had had the dance battle with all those months ago at Apgujeong-dong’s mall.

 

Ironically, he was glad that she hadn’t dressed up like the majority of female idols he had seen. Instead of going for the leg-baring shorts and waist-knotted top, she was in a simple large t-shirt and leggings, with dance-worn sneakers on to complete the look. She could dance like that. Today would be the day he regained his title as the Dancing Prince. Today, he’d show her what a member of Seventeen can do. Today…

 

“Come on, _Wangja-nim_ ,” his Undecided said, voice heavily ironic. “It looks like you’re charging yourself up. Do you need to go Super Saiyan to beat Sora-ssi?”

 

Hoshi prayed for patience – as much as he liked (loved?) liked Lee Jihoon, he also wanted to throttle him at times, especially when he did his infuriating mind-reading act.

 

“Ha, _hyung_ can’t beat Sora-ssi,” Channie got in from the enemy camp. “Pledis is going to have a new prince shortly.” He paused. “Princess?” he queried, looking sideways at Sora-ssi.

 

_No more blushing? Maybe he’s over that crush… or at least learning how to hide it?_

 

Sora-ssi grinned. “I’m okay with being a prince,” she said happily, stepping back as Jihoonie made his way to the music station. “Do the fans come with the title, or will I have to steal them away another way?”

 

Soonyoung laughed long and loud as an old BoA song started, and got ready to demolish her.

 

Five songs later, as she laughingly tossed her hands into the air and sank down on her haunches to get her breath back, Soonyoung punched the air in victory, title defended. He felt warm and loose and free, abused his power as _hyung_ to send Channie to go and get drinks for all of them, and shivered at the tiny touch of approval Jihoonie gave to his hip, practically the only dry spot still left on his body.

 

“How is Seungkwan-ssi doing?” Sora-ssi questioned as she pushed her bangs off her sweaty forehead, flapping at the shirt to dry it faster. “I know he’s got access to, um, excellent health care, but I’m wondering how he’s doing. Mentally, you know? He sounded sad earlier, when I heard him sing. Everyone must’ve been very angry, and he did save lives…”

 

Jihoonie joined them in the row against the mirror. “He’s not allowed to sing anything but scales today,” he muttered. “He didn’t get hurt too much, but he risked one of the two main vocalists of this band. It would have been difficult to replace him just speaking on that level, because his voice is so different from Seokmin-ah’s or the rest of the vocal unit. And it’s not like _Wangja-nim_ here can sing.”

 

“Hey!” Soonyoung complained, but not too hard, because it made Sora-ssi giggle like a little girl, hands covering her mouth. Over her head he saw Jihoonie smile too, one of his rare wide ones, and decided not to whine _too_ much. “Those are fighting words, Sora-ssi, don’t you think so?”

 

Sora tried to keep a straight face. “Oh no, Soonyoung-ssi, are you going to take on Jihoon-ssi now? I’m not going to bet against the vocal leader! I’d be too afraid of his guitar.”

 

“Lies,” Jihoonie said flatly. “Has Mingyu been tattling? As if I would hit… you…” Trailing off, he blinked, then sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Sora-ssi. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Sora leant forward to rest her chin on her knees. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t… it hurts. But it wasn’t you.”

 

Soonyoung’s heart ached. If she had been one of the band members, he’d be smothering her in hugs, but she wasn’t, and it hurt just a little that he couldn’t. “Jihoonie’s a softy,” he told her to ease past the moment. “You should see his stuffed toy collection back in the dorm. One female fan gave him a whale plushie almost as big as he is. It’s hard to be badass when you’re zonked out on a whale plushie.”

 

Chan entered on the edges of that, four cans of cola pressed together in his hands. “I smuggled them past Jimin- _hyung_ ,” he got out breathlessly, face glowing with happiness. “Come on, you have to see this, he’s all dressed up to ask Yoongi- _hyung_ for a date or something. He really looks like a prince, not like Soonyoung- _hyung_ pretends to be. Come on!”

 

They took one look at each other and scrambled to see the sight.

 

==========================================================

 

Sora stood in the back of the room and stared as Jimin-ssi went down on one knee in front of a scowling Yoongi-ssi in front of everyone. He looked so dashing with his silver hair and the suit he had on. His skin glowed with health, he was smiling fit to kill and he really was so beautiful it was unfair.

 

She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to each other, given that the staff were clustered three-thick around them in a nosy circle, but from the way that Yoongi-ssi rolled his eyes and nodded, and the way that Jimin-ssi surged straight to pick him up like he weighed nothing, he had quite clearly said yes.

 

She felt a ping in her heart as her crush took another step away from her on a road she couldn’t follow on, and turned away to make her way to the tiny training studio. Pulling her phone from her bag, she slid down the wall and curled up in a corner to wait for her trainer, pulling up the chat with Seventeen’s angel.

 

 **SR:** _Oppa_ , I am so sad today .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･. Yoongi- _oppa_ got engaged, I think.

 **SR:** And I can’t hate Jimin-ssi, he looked so good I wanted to start crying because I fell a little bit for him too, I am so confused

 **JH:** I just heard from Cheollie myself, I’m so happy for them but so sad for you. Let _oppa_ treat you to ice cream, okay? What do you want? I’m already buying for Seungkwanie to cheer him up too…

 **SR:** I can’t have anything _oppa_ I already had a cheat can of soda earlier after the dance-off

 **JH:** Nonsense, _oppa_ will sneak it in to you. They have some strawberry cherry mix here

 **SR:** How is Seungkwan-ssi doing? I saw the clip, everyone thinks he was very brave, but he looked so sad when I saw him this morning?

 **JH:** He’s going through a difficult time as well, what he did was very stupid and I think he realises that now

 **JH:** But _oppa_ has some good news to tell you! _Oppa_ was finally able to talk to the person that he loves and he is just as cute as you

 **SR:** Really?! That is so good _oppa_ I am so happy for you! Is it who I think it is? Don’t tell me names but is it the guy that we were talking about a few days ago? The one with the soft smile?

 **JH:** Kekekekekeke yes~

 **SR:** ⊂(･ω･*⊂) I am so happy for you _oppa_ you deserve it so much.

 **JH:** _Oppa_ will have to marry him now, not you

 **SR:** _Oppa_ you are so conceited who even said I would want to marry you?

 **JH:** Have you seen this face?

 **SR:** Oh my gosh how have you been infected by Jin- _oppa_ ’s lines? They are so bad I don’t think they work on anyone but Namjoonie- _oppa_.

 **JH:** Shhhh let me have my moment

 **JH:** Who won in the dance-off?

 **SR:** _Wangja-nim_ did, I danced so hard but in the end he was just too good so I have to call him that for the next week (ノ°益°)ノ

 **JH:** He’s more shameless than you are. Sora-ya do you think you can help _oppa_ with Seungkwanie?

 **SR:** I was just going to do some homework whilst I wait for my trainer _oppa_ so sure?

 **JH:** Good, can you look up?

 

Sora blinked and looked up, colouring as she saw Jeonghan- _oppa_ lounging in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard him come in. He had a corner store plastic bag over one wrist, his phone in his right and in his left a bouquet of purple lilacs mixed with white daisies. It was small, humble-looking, and beautiful, and for a moment she hoped it was for her, but she didn’t have anyone to send her anything. Jumping up, she bowed and went to help him, wrapping her hands carefully around the bouquet’s stem.

 

“Is it for Jisoo- _oppa_?” she asked curiously, head tilted. “Is he a flower man?”

 

Jeonghan straightened to smile down at her. “As pretty as a flower, but no… no, those are actually for Hansol-ah. I need you to pretend that they were delivered from a fan.”

 

“They’re not from a fan?” she asked doubtfully. “ _Oppa_ , these are beautiful, but will Hansol-ssi even like flowers? They’re not actually from a fan, are they?”

 

Jeonghan bonked her very gently on the head with his phone. “Correct! They’re from Seungkwan. They had a big fallout. But he doesn’t want him to know, he just wants to send them. It’s a bit cheesy, but what do you expect from those two?”

 

Sora felt tears well up in her eyes. “It’s sweet!” she defended Hansol. “You are just being a devil.”

 

“Come on,” Jeonghan- _oppa_ said laughingly. “Let’s see how this goes.”

 

======================================================

 

As long as Sora lived she would never forget the look on Hansol-ssi’s face when she peeked into their waiting room and handed him the flowers with a little bob of her knees. He looked stunned and confused and… well, very much like a boy being given flowers. “Delivery!” she sang, catching Seungkwan-ssi’s head lift out of the corner of her gaze in the mirror. “There’s a card, but I didn’t read further than the name. You must have a gigantic fan, Hansol-ssi, these are really, really expensive.”

 

“I…” he floundered. “Are they?”

 

She nodded eagerly. “They’re so pristine, so the flowers likely were grown very carefully in a hot-house, just to make sure they were as perfect as could be. They’re not really in season right now.”

 

Hansol looked down at the bouquet, large hands teasing the card out. “They’re my mother’s favourite,” he mumbled. “Daisies. I don’t recognise the other flowers, but they’re a pretty colour.”

 

“They’re lilacs,” Sora explained. She bit her lip against the desire to tell him what the bouquet meant. “I hope you don’t mind, but you should probably get them into water, so a vase or a mug or something…”

 

“…but don’t monopolise Sora-ssi and ask her to arrange them,” Jeonghan-ssi came to her rescue. “Here, Sora-ssi, here’s your ice cream. Don’t sing directly after you eat it, okay?”

 

This time she had to fight to roll her eyes. “I know, _oppa_ , I had some training before…”

 

“Sora-ssi,” Seungkwan spoke up across the room. “If you’re not busy right now, do you want to sing scales? I need to work on my head voice, and Eunkwang-ssi told me you had operatic training.”

 

A cold sweat broke out on Sora’s back at the thought of singing. Even now, months after the fact, she didn’t like to do it; in a way it was good she could dance well, because the company could still work with her. “Um…” she faltered. “Okay? Where to?”

 

“They’re busy with the small room, so perhaps one of the smaller studios?”

 

Minutes later, seated on the sofa in the practice studio, she watched Seungkwan-ssi fling himself down on a producer’s chair.

 

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I appreciate your help, and that you didn’t tell him they were from me.”

 

Considering him, she slipped her bag onto her lap and dug around in it, tugging out the handkerchief and leaning forward to rest it on his knee. “I think,” she said quietly, “that it was one of the sweetest gestures I’ve ever seen, Seungkwan-ssi. Don’t let the guys tease you that it’s cheesy, it’s not. It was brave and sweet, and I really, _really_ wish that I find someone I can like as much one day. I’d give anything to be as brave as you, because admitting that you’re wrong and apologising is one of the hardest things I know.”

 

He looked at her and promptly burst into tears. This time she felt free to cry with him, so she did, because her heart was full of love for all the amazing people she met through Chan-ah and Hobi- _oppa_.

 

It turned into a really good day after all.

 

===================================================================

 

Wonwoo concentrated on his song lyrics, carefully jotting down the last few characters on his assignment before he read it over twice. It was late, he could feel it in every joint in his body, and if he didn’t get home soon he would explode. The maknae line had left hours ago, too busy for their end-of-year studies to stay very late, so most of the proposed lyrics were falling on the older members’ shoulders.

 

Boys Be was doing phenomenally as an album, there was no beating around the bush, and the company had given the go-ahead for a full-length album early in next year. What had surprised everyone was the reaction overseas. Although most idol groups had small overseas followings, it hadn’t been until Monsta X had a big breakthrough that the market had become more familiar with them. From the response, the Hallyu wave was well and alive overseas, and Seventeen were surfing near the top of it right now.

 

None of it had meant quite so much as getting their first all-kill on the music shows they had promoted on. Perhaps because of the publicity surrounding the event, perhaps because of the aggressive marketing, perhaps even because of their growing fandom, but Mansae had swept the trophies and even landed them a spot on the coveted Weekly Idol show. They were busy-busy, promoting nearly every day. Busy enough that things wanted to start slipping through the cracks.

 

He surreptitiously checked the schedule he had created for himself on his phone, taking care that the others didn’t see it. He not only had his normal duties as a band member, but ever since he had made the breakthrough with the coffee cup his magical training had started to flourish. Namjoon- _hyung_ had been correct; it wasn’t so much aptitude that he had lacked as an understanding of what it would _feel_ performing what he now knew wasn’t really magic, per se, but a manipulation and advanced understanding of the field of energy loosely classified as magic.

 

It was one of the reasons why the Park Reactor was taking off so spectacularly in the mundane world. Everyone could see that it worked, everyone could agree that you put reagents in on one side and got clean energy out the other side, but the actual working model and the deep understanding of physics that underpinned it was only clear to very few people on the planet.

 

He had once asked Namjoon- _hyung_ whether he truly followed it. His _hyung_ was the most intelligent man he knew; when he admitted that he only understood the basics of it, not any of the advanced theory behind it, Wonwoo had felt a little small.

 

On the other hand, even the small magics he was capable of felt great to him, such as keeping his coffee cold or warm. He had gotten to the point where Namjoon- _hyung_ agreed to give him an impromptu test to see if he really had a workable aptitude beyond the small things, or whether he’d be a worker of tiny rituals for the rest of his life.

 

Wonwoo’s mouth curved slightly into a smirk. Even as crowded as his schedule was, he looked forward to that.

 

The only burr in his side was Hansol-ah. His young roommate had been withdrawn for the past week. Everyone knew he had had a falling-out with Seungkwan, everyone would have had to be blind to miss that, but the way he spent his nights alternately scribbling angsty lyrics or staring at the ceiling worried Wonwoo. Just last night, he had caught him staring at the small bouquet Channie’s girl-crush had delivered; he hadn’t said anything about the tears that had come after he found out the flower meanings, but he wanted to, if only to get rid of the thick atmosphere in their room.

 

A noise broke him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see the tallest tree in the Seventeen dorms looking down at him with a grin. He had grown _again_ ; incidentally, Jiminie- _hyung_ had explained that it was one of the reasons he was so clumsy, that his growth spurts constantly undermined muscle memory, and that it would continue until he stopped growing and started to settle.

 

He wore a sleeveless shirt against the heat of the late summer night, exposing arms growing firm and defined from the constant workouts he did. Wonwoo had gone with once, but when he had seen the amount of weight on the leg press machine he had calmly walked right back out. It was scarily impressive. “Are you taller again?” he asked wearily. “Dude. Could you _please_ leave some for the rest of the group? Jihoon-ah is on the verge of murdering you.”

 

Mingyu gave him a wide, adorable smile, rather like the puppy Wonwoo always thought he was. “Hyu-uuuung,” he drawled out. “Let’s go get food. I’m hungry.”

 

“Are you going to pay?” Wonwoo asked severely, though he’d secretly die before letting his dongsaeng pick up the bill. “If so, I could go for a snack. My brain is starting to melt. Are you done with your assignment?”

 

Mingyu flapped the paper in his hand at him, resting it on top of his carefully. “It tried to kill me, but I managed to survive.” He wiggled one index finger at Wonwoo, showing off his papercut.

 

 _Then again,_ Wonwoo thought wearily, _why am I getting impressed by a guy that still gets papercuts?_ Out loud, eyeing the small slice, he shook his head and stood. “Come on, that bingsu place should still be open. It’s too hot for anything cooked tonight.”


	39. Chapter 39

Yue stared stolidly at the small pink tub that floated in her bath. It looked like something that ahjummas would make kimchi in; despite its size it floated easily in the huge bathtub some of the servants insisted wasn’t a luxury but a necessity for a kit that was barely seven years old. Said kit was on the inside of the tub, nine tiny tails waving happily in the air as she chewed at a large purple plastic duck. It had most definitely suffered from the treatment before, being liberally decorated with tiny fang marks. Soomi was teething; it wasn’t so bad for a creature with fangs as it would be for a baby with blunt teeth, but it still didn’t look nice from the outside.

 

The tub was filled with water too, magically kept warm, giving the baby something to swim into without risking the depth of an adult tub.

 

If Yue was very hard-pressed, she’d admit to liking the water too. She always had, especially as it was now when it took away all the aches and pains of a long day’s training with whoever the heir chose to toss at her. She was supposed to be the baby’s protector, but they didn’t leave her alone for a second either way. She had sparred with more people than she ever knew before; losing was a distant foreign concept to her and Soomi’s honour hadn’t been risked. After that, an afternoon of court with people that not only were afraid of her, but disapproved of her vocally.

 

In return, there had been a table that groaned under food.

 

She bit her lip, letting the glamour on her body slowly fade out until all the muscles in her neck could relax. It had been a hard lesson learnt long ago – children with pearly perfect skin and pretty features were meat in the Krapow district. She supposed it said something that she felt safe enough to relax here. There wasn’t even a scar to show – her scars had all disappeared as Jin-ssi had healed her. Now all her wounds were on the inside, slowly crusting over. All but the last one, and she didn’t know why.

 

Unhappy but unwilling to think of the boy she was missing fiercely, she reached out to the tub and picked Soomi up duck and all, holding her on her shoulder. “You and me,” she muttered, ignoring the tiny paws that scratched at her skin, or the way the duck thudded against her neck. “You and me, kid. I failed my sister, but I’m not going to fail you, okay?” She held her up to swoop through the air, earning an excited yip and a duck falling on her head. “Can you say Chan? Lee Chan? Can you…”

 

One moment she still swung a tiny kit around – healthy for her age, yes, but an adorable puppy picture none the less – and in the next there was a baby in her arms, a human-looking baby that burbled at her and swung pudgy arms and feet. She swore, a repeat of a curse heard that afternoon, and scrambled out of the bath, running off after almost dropping her into the water from pure shock.

 

It was a moment of great significance in a _gumiho_ ’s life, she had been told, the moment they gathered enough control and power to shift into a human form. Her family would want to know. They had to be told. The queen was down in Ilsan for some kind of meeting, but the heir and his mate…

 

She skittered out of the nursery into the family wing, ignoring the shocked look of the maids and guards, though she got another helping when she burst into the prince’s suite. His mate, the dragon she had been sparring against, looked up and promptly choked on his chips as he plucked his gaze away, red all the way up to his bowl cut and down his neck into his t-shirt. His character died messily on the screen, he cursed and plucked the headphones off.

 

“Tae!” he screamed in the direction of the bedroom section. “Tae, oh my god, bring a towel, bring a sheet, bring anything! Quickly!”

 

Yue pulled up short, blinking, and hesitantly waved the baby at him. Soomi, not to be outdone, waved her little arms as well, burbling happily. “Look,” the naga said plaintively. “Why aren’t you looking?”

 

Jungkook buried his head underneath his arms on the desk, whining piteously. “For the love of every god you believe in, please put on clothes. I can’t look at you like that.”

 

Risking a look down, Yue counted features. The rack that irritated her by starting to show up, a pale, muscled stomach, deceptively strong legs… “What?” she said uncomprehendingly. “It’s all there.”

 

Luckily for Jungkook, Taehyung came hurrying out of his room with a towel as large as a blanket, stopping as soon as he caught sight of her. No leers, no slimy feel to him, just a lack of comprehension. “Kookie,” he said. “Is that…”

 

“Please tell her to put something on!”

 

“Look,” Yue tried again, waving Soomi at her brother. “Look what your sister did.”

 

“Is that… is that Soomi-ya?” Tae _hyung_ asked, eyes widening slowly. “She did it! She turned human!” He dashed forward to help with the towel, practically throwing it at Yue before scooping his sister right out of her hands. “Look, Kookie, look, she did it!”

 

Soomi gave a sneeze and promptly turned back into a kit, then into a baby again, and looked up at her brother to say her first phrase. “Wee Cwan fwukin’ egg-swuckin’ baddits.”

 

As one, Taehyung and Jungkook looked at Yue as she tucked her towel in.

 

“In my defence,” she got out, “she heard it from Minister Gong first, and I did punch him for it.”

 

Taehyung subsided into hilarity, grabbing a hoodie to wrap his naked sister in, and Jungkook tried for a glare but failed as Soomi sniffed at the hoodie and yelled ‘Kookiekookiekookie!’

 

Yue, wrapped securely in the warm towel, just watched, trying to understand the concept of people loving each other so much that they’d dance together around a room with a baby tucked between them. Something in her heart plinked like ice bursting, and it left her breathless with the sudden, fierce decision that Soomi would never go through the life she had. It had been too late for Luli. She wouldn’t slip again.

 

==================================================

 

Racks upon racks of clothing filled the room like technicolour swallows on a telephone line, just waiting to migrate. It wasn’t just the Seventeen wardrobe; the stylist _noona_ s had called in favours with Nu’est-sunbaenim’s wardrobe guardians, getting a lot of clothes there as well. To Jihoon’s tired eyes it looked like the backstage shots he had seen of fashion shows; Minghao-ah was in seventh heaven and already browsing the racks, with Mingyu-ah almost catching up. Not that he knew anyone that had that much leg length amongst their _sunbaenim,_ the giant was likely out of luck.

 

Their popularity had increased vastly thanks to Seungkwan-ah’s actions, though he highly doubted the young idol had actually thought about that. Thought about anything, in fact. Even now, seeing him skulk about quietly was physically painful – his head had somehow adapted to having his group’s maknae loud and in-your-face, and this ghost impression wasn’t doing him any favours.

 

“What concept are they going for, _hyung_?” he wearily asked Wonwoo, having sought refuge with him. “Do we even know?”

 

“Nope,” the elder dragged out. “You know how it is on Concept Day. Outfit changes until our feet fall off. I feel sorry for the performance unit testing all of these out.”

 

Jihoon cast another weary eyeball at Minghao, who had somehow persuaded Jun- _hyung_ to tour with him, and who had little compunction about plucking the older boy to and fro, checking how outfits’d fit against his model looks. He looked around, spotting young Channie browsing a section of jackets that reminded him more than a little of Michael Jackson, and prayed devoutly that the _maknae_ would never regress to Elvis Presley and his rhinestone onesies. He frowned, peeking left and right, but couldn’t locate Soonyoung- _hyung_ , not until one of the changing rooms opened up and he stepped out looking like a vampire.

 

Scratch that. If he was a vampire, it was the kind that decided to give up blood and try a healthy diet instead, but still retained their dress sense. Suddenly he understood Hansol’s butt thing more than he wanted to. His eyes slowly travelled up legs clad in leather pants that showed muscles rippling as he moved, to the dark-as-ebony chiffon shirt they had him in. It flowed in the back a little from extra folds of fabric from the fabric belt, but the main part of it was held tight to his body with what looked like… looked like…

 

“Oh my gosh,” Chan spoke for him, startled from his display of jackets. “ _Hyung_ , is that a bondage harness?”

 

It was. Jihoon’s mind reeled. The stylist _noona_ stepped closer to cinch it a little tighter around his waist, a waist he had only attempted to measure with his hands before, and she wouldn’t stop fiddling, and the idiot was posing like the prince he liked to call himself, fluffing his hands through his hair…

 

“Down boy,” Wonwoo- _hyung_ spoke, dragging him back down into the chair by the handful of shirt at the small of his back. “Stop the growling. What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

With a start Jihoon realised he was correct, he _was_ growling, and all because that damn woman had her hands on his man, and he hadn’t even realised he thought of the hamster as ‘His Man’ beyond some kissing and hand-holding and an unspoken wonder whether boyfriends was still a thing in this day and age, and now he had a hard-on and he was confused and… “Holy shit,” he squeaked and stood abruptly, scooting out of the room until he got to a quiet corner. He plucked his phone out, dialled furiously and jittered around the room.

 

“ _Hyung_?” he said as Jungkook- _hyung_ answered, feeling out of breath. “ _Hyung_ , something’s wrong. I can’t stop growling, and I want to beat someone’s face in for touching, and it’s mine and I don’t know what’s going on, oh my god help.” He couldn’t remember ever feeling this flustered before, not even when they had told him he was on his way to becoming a dragon. He hadn’t lost his control since that day, but luckily it was already raining, and the deafening peals of thunder were at least not from a clear sky.

 

“Jihoon-ah?” his _hyung_ questioned. “You’re speaking too fast. What’s yours, and who is touching?  Remember I explained that sometimes you’d feel a little territorial over your things…”

 

“I’m not feeling a ‘little territorial’!” Jihoon shouted into the phone, close to losing it comprehensively in the cocktail of strange emotions that surged through him. “He’s not a thing! It’s Soonyoung- _hyung_ , and the stylist _noona_ is touching him, and I’ve never had this reaction before, so what’s going on?”

 

There was a moment of silence from the other side of the line. “Jihoon-ah,” his _hyung_ said quietly and calmly. “Do you like Soonyoung-ah like I like Tae-tae? Or like I like Jiminie?”

 

Jihoon froze at the question. Jungkook- _hyung_ didn’t like Tae-tae. He loved him, and luckily the _gumiho_ loved him back, because he had gotten the distinct impression that if someone ever fucked with Tae- _hyung_ , the dragon would tear them apart. Sure, he knew he liked Jiminie- _hyung_ and would want to protect him too, but there were clear differences. “Holy fucking shit,” he swore.

 

“I’m gonna let that go because I know what you’re going through,” Jungkook- _hyung_ said. “But don’t let one of the mom _hyungdeul_ hear you. So you like Soonyoung-ah?”

 

Jihoon thudded his forehead onto the table. “No. Yes?” he got out, massively embarrassed. “I love him. We’ve been holding hands a little and… okay, I’m not going to explain but it hasn’t gone that far. And it’s not fair, he was looking so good and she was touching him, and…”

 

“…and she’s going to continue touching him, because it’s her _job_ and she’s not challenging your right to him,” Jungkook- _hyung_ said firmly. “Don’t bite her head off. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go back in there and take a photo, because trust me, Tae-tae would kill us both if he didn’t see, you know how he is about clothes.”

 

Mumbling, Jihoon ended the call and reluctantly stepped back into the changing room, right as the bane of his existence was doing some body-waves from Jam Jam to try out the clothes. Whipping his phone up, he took a short clip instead and started praying for himself.

 

Wonwoo- _hyung_ gave him a long look as he sat back down. “Better?” he muttered.

 

Jihoon gave a tiny shake of his head, tried to ignore Jeonghan- _hyung_ smirking at him like a hyena spotting a fresh kill, and tried to curse the day he had first secretly watched Kwon Soonyoung dance for his audition, all to no avail. He was in love, and it was all the hurricane’s fault.

 

========================================

 

Seungkwan wandered through the racks of clothing towards the back of the room, trying to stay well away from whatever drama there was developing. He had seen Jihoon- _hyung_ bolt from the room, and he had seen him come back, first to stare at Soonyoung- _hyung_ with love eyes, then to glare so hard at his phone the screen might as well have been cracked.

 

He had zero patience for romance stuff today; his head hurt as it hadn’t in a long time, he didn’t want anything to do with the day beyond faking being sick and going to crawl back into bed. He especially didn’t want to think about the fact that if he tried hard enough, he might very well be able to perhaps rewind time far enough to stop himself from making such a colossal mistake.

 

He was busy enough moping that he didn’t notice the hand sticking through a rack of clothing, though he felt it as someone tugged him through it and into a teeny-tiny space between the wall and two sections of what looked like their debut outfits. His shoulder didn’t thump against the wall, there was a hand that protected it, and he looked up to see Hansol close to him. Too close, too close by far, smelling like Hansol and looking like Hansol and even pursing his lips like Hansol.

 

The headache slowly dwindled as he breathed in, eyes wide.

 

“Boo.” Just one syllable, but infinitely dear, said with the same love it was always said with. “Can we talk?”

 

Seungkwan fought not to swallow. “Sure?” he squeaked out. From this close, he could see the hints of red-rimmed eyes under Hansol’s makeup, the tiny frown crinkling the skin over the bridge of his nose.

 

Hansol leant back a bit, grimacing uneasily. “About what I said the other night…”

 

_Oh. Oh god, I’m not strong enough for this, he’s going to tell me to stop trying, just to back off, he’s going to tell me he doesn’t want me anymore, what the fuck am I going to do?_

Seungkwan stared at Hansol with mute horror. The past few days had been traumatic, one stress heaped on the other, and he felt beaten, tenderised by it. Hearing Hansol’s version of a ‘Dear John’ speech would be the final straw, he could feel it. His emotions churned, roiled, and he wanted to run away but his body stood there like a lump, refusing to move away from the grip Hansol had on one wrist. One wrist that was being shaken, then a shoulder, as Hansol stared at him.

 

“It’s okay,” he stuttered. “It’s okay, I understand, you don’t want anything more to do with me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

 

Hansol’s frown deepened, turning into a squinty-eyed look of confusion and worry. “No?” he tried. “I wanted to apologise for being an asshole. Not having anything to do with you is the furthest thing from what I want. Hey. No. Stop that. Come on, Boo-boo.” Ignoring the other’s trembles, he pulled him closer, wrapped his arms around him.

 

Seungkwan’s trembles stilled. It was almost magical, the way that his body relaxed in Hansol’s arms, and with a start he realised why. Their bond had been hurting, _aching_ from their fight, and it was relaxing now, and the sudden cessation of the headache brought on a surge of relief so great he stumbled against his Hansol.

 

“I’m sorry I said the things I said. I didn’t mean to yell at you, but I was so frightened that I reacted like a bastard. I’m so happy you’re safe, Kwannie. I’m so happy you’re still with me, and that I can still hold you like this.” Hansol’s arms bit in as he squeezed, one around his waist and one around his shoulders to anchor him against his body. “I was so angry, so _angry_ that you could have gotten hurt so badly, and so glad you didn’t that everything messed up in my mind. And it was my fault. I knew something was going to happen, but I couldn’t see what quickly enough. I would have failed you, and that twisted everything up inside.”

 

Seungkwan didn’t hear half the apology. Instead, fists curling into Hansol’s stupid basketball shirt, he pressed his face against his neck and breathed raggedly, trying to find his emotional footing. Between the two of them, they somehow slid down the wall until he sat on Hansol’s lap, legs twisted uneasily off to one side. It hurt, pinching at his side as muscles protested the odd angle, but he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon.

 

It was like standing at the sea, feeling the tide trying to take sand from underneath his feet, but instead the sand grew firmer, more solid, laughing at the tide as it offered him a solid place to stand on. He could feel Hansol’s pulse beat against his lips, against the ragged breathing, and it slowly calmed him down, soothing his own.

 

“Boo.”

 

Again that syllable, but this time it felt freeing, as if he could finally breathe after days of tension. “Just a little while longer,” he begged. “Let me just sit here a little while longer.”

 

Hansol pulled back as much as he could to smile at him. “Thank you for the flowers,” he said gently. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise your handwriting on the card?”

 

“I wasn’t thinking,” he sniffled. “And it’s true. I’m your biggest fan.”

 

“I know,” Hansol said incredibly gently. “I’m your fan too. Don’t give out the number one spot to anyone else, okay? That’s my spot, even though I have to fight my sister for it.”

 

Seungkwan managed to pull himself together a little, just enough to twist his legs around so that they stretched off to the side instead and he could rest his side into the safe circle of Hansol’s arms. “Did you find out what the flowers meant? I wasn’t sure you’d know. Or that you’d even like flowers. Or that you’d… you’d remember.”

 

“They were the first flowers I ever gave you,” Hansol murmured, hands moving slowly on his back. “Back in that other reality. I gave them to you because you liked flowers and because I couldn’t find the words myself, so I gave you a bouquet of lilacs and daisies. I nearly had a heart attack as Sora-ssi gave them to me.” He sighed into Seungkwan’s hair. “I am such a massive, _massive_ bastard. Please forgive me, Boo. I don’t really deserve it, but I’m asking.”

 

“No,” Seungkwan sulked. “I want flowers too. And I want my chocolate back. And I want cuddles. Lots of cuddles and touching.”

 

Hansol laughed, muffling it into his hair. “I promise, but just not on screen, okay?” he promised.  “The fans are already crazy enough. Will that be okay?”

 

“Yes,” Seungkwan muttered, eyes closing. “It’ll be okay.”

 

Minutes later, when Seungcheol went looking for them, Jeonghan said nothing about their hiding space, knowing both needed a few minutes’ nap. Instead, hauling poor Chan closer, he instigated an impromptu thigh-wrestling tournament, causing the _noona_ s to roll their eyes and call for lunch early.

 

=============================================

 

Chan struggled into the shirt they gave him, smoothing it down over his shoulders. It was too tight over his chest and too loose around his waist. As glad as he was to see that his workout sessions with his _hyung_ deul were working for him, this was irritating. All his concert clothes were too tight across his shoulders now; earlier, when he had beat Cheol- _hyung_ with thigh-wrestling the guys had made much of that too, leaving him to feel low and dispirited.

 

The _noona_ looked at him critically and shook her head. “Stop growing!” she chastised. “I don’t know what they put in your food, but nearly all your clothes are too small again. I swear, you boys are growing like weeds.”

 

“Yes, _noona_ , sorry,” he placated, slowly working the shirt off himself again.

 

“You’re just as bad as Seungkwan-ah,” she continued. “He’s slimming down and you’re buffing up, what’s going on in those dorms these days?” She turned to get him another version of the shirt, taking the one he carefully shimmied out of with a wrinkle of her nose. “At least you’re cleaner than my boys, they still think mud puddles are fun accessories.”

 

Pulling the second shirt over his head, he managed to grin at her. “Want me to think that too, _noona_?”

 

“Pfft,” she muttered, tugging the shirt straight at the back. “You’re a good kid, Chan-ah, you wouldn’t give us troubles like that. Here’s the jacket.”

 

It was a beautiful jacket too, lined with something he couldn’t identify but looked like wool. It had butterflies and birds and flowers stuck all over it. Chan wonderingly stared at the ‘Gucci’ label on the inside and slipped it on, feeling it settle just right over his shoulders. Everything about it was right: the brightness, the flashy feel, even the logo in the back. “I love it, _noona_ , but real Gucci? Are we doing that well?”

 

She swallowed as she looked at him, hands patting at his shoulders and fiddling with the front, reminding him of his mother for a moment. “I had to fight hard not to let Minghao-ah’s dresser get her hands on this, okay? Whether you deserve it or not, you’re going to wear it and make me proud, right? I’ll make you look as good as possible, but you’ve got to wear it as well as possible.”

 

Chan swallowed past a lump in his throat and nodded. “What does the logo mean?”

 

“L’Aveugle Par Amour?” she asked. “Blind for Love, I think.”

 

It wasn’t really a hallucination, visual or otherwise, but suddenly he could see Yue wear the jacket. She’d be swamped by it, and she wasn’t tall to begin with, but the bright colours would look against her. It’d look… it’d look… He took a deep breath and thought of the road he was on. It was a long one still, he wasn’t nearly ready to protect anyone yet.

 

 _Wait for me,_ his heart whispered. _Wait for me, I’m working hard._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. I don't know if real idols have concept days where they try out bunches of clothes or if they just wear what's given to them, but the idea sounded fun. 
>   2. I also don't know whether the stylist unnies just want to kill me or not, but Hoshi in a harness and tight leather is [something](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrDJQF8tELY&ab_channel=enzeru_no_innen) [else](https://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/7e3f625783cd55d00e824f8a29d83507/5BD8F83B/t51.2885-15/e35/35616359_234397577361340_5593359441706614784_n.jpg?efg=eyJ1cmxnZW4iOiJ1cmxnZW5fZnJvbV9pZyJ9&se=7&ig_cache_key=MTgxNTk4NDMwMjI0NTEyNzg1Nw%3D%3D.2). I don't blame Woozi for feeling territorial. 
>   3. Seungkwan and Hansol finally make up, heavily featuring a Hansol that apologises for being a massive jerk. 
>   4. Chan puts on [this](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2034/7251/products/Gucci_Embroidered_denim_jacket_with_shearling_Size_46-6.jpg?v=1496716248) [jacket](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2034/7251/products/Gucci_Embroidered_denim_jacket_with_shearling_Size_46-17.jpg?v=1496716248). The actual one there is way too large for him, but yeah. Memories, man. They ambush you when you're least expecting them. 
> 



	40. Chapter 40

Late July 29th:

 

Mingyu stared at Wonwoo’s dorm wall, ignoring his friend for the moment. The quiet boy had put up a large map of the South Asian and East Asian area, and was slowly putting pins into it. From what he could make out, it was tracing something from Japan to Korea, but a red string shot off to the side into China, and there were other ones going to Jeju-do, and the whole thing seemed to be a mess. He couldn’t tell what was traced, for one, and secondly there seemed to be some meaning to the colour of the thread. It just reminded him of some kind of stalker wall, albeit with Very Old People on it.

 

“Do I want to know?” he eventually asked, giving in to the temptation.

 

Wonwoo looked up from his spot on the bed and grinned at him. Not the one he showed for the cameras, but the one that gave his emotionless face a little life, a little movement. The one that Mingyu would _never_ tell him caused butterflies.

 

“What,” he teased. “You can’t immediately decode who my next victim is going to be? Shame on you, Mingyu-ah.”

 

Mingyu tilted his head back to the map. “ _Hyung_ , I don’t think that Einstein himself could make sense of this.”

 

Wonwoo waved a hand and scooted sideways on the bed, patting the space next to him. “Come and look at it from this angle.”

 

It didn’t make much more sense from that angle either, though Mingyu appreciated the opportunity to lie down at least, in case it gave him a headache. Wonwoo- _hyung_ was a line of warmth down his side, and he smelled faintly of old books, a stack of which floated by his bed. Not sat by his bed on a stand, but floated, as if they had some business hanging in the air like that.

 

“Where’s Hansol-ah?” he asked curiously.

 

“He’s out with Seungkwan-ah.” Wonwoo paused to select his words carefully. “On a date. Some kind of picnic in the roof garden that Seungkwan-ah put together.”

 

Mingyu pressed his lips together. Whilst the contracts had not been rewritten, he knew companies generally turned a blind eye as long as people were discreet. “Do you get the feeling that everyone is pairing up?” he asked plaintively. “It’s been love eyes right and left here. Was there a note that I missed out on?”

 

Wonwoo took advantage of his presence to put a second stack of books down on Mingyu’s stomach, getting a muffled grunt for his trouble. “It’s been coming since pre-debut. Statistically speaking, I didn’t think this many of the band members were going to hook up together, even if it’s not a long-term thing. But when you consider that we spent our formative years together it’s not so strange. Fondness for a brother or a good friend isn’t that far away from love. We don’t get many other opportunities. Why? Are you lonely?”

 

“Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty,” Mingyu said quietly. “You taught me that quote. I can’t say it’s wrong.”

 

“Mother Theresa said it first,” Wonwoo muttered. “Maybe your loneliness is just that you haven’t figured out what you want yet. I haven’t either.”

 

 _Maybe,_ Mingyu thought, _I’ve figured out who I wanted ages ago, and now I’m waiting for him to want me too._ Aloud, he cleared his throat and looked back at the rat’s nest of threads. “What are you tracking?”

 

“Once upon a time…”

 

“Wait!” It was a cue for Mingyu to move the books, sit up and go for a blanket. Wonwoo’s stories were infrequent, but lulling, and he could use the rest after their draining music show appearance earlier the day. He settled in, blanket-draped, and punched a pillow into a better shape for his neck. “Okay. Ready.”

 

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Once upon a time,” he continued, “there was a beautiful maiden that bathed in the sea, because she saw it from one of heaven’s palaces and thought the shifting moonlight on it very beautiful. She hung her feathered robe over a nearby tree to make sure it didn’t get wet. However, before she could get to it again a fisherman found it and took it. When she asked for it back, he didn’t want to give it to her, and so she could not return to her palace in the sky. She was forced to remain with him and bear his children. Some people say that she found the robe and returned to heaven. The others say that she died and never found it.”

 

Mingyu basked drowsily in his _hyung_ ’s deep voice. “That’s kind of creepy. What does that have to do with your stalker wall?”

 

“I’m tracking the feathered robe. I had the oddest realisation that day we shot the Mansae MV – what if the robe is real? What if the robe the ghost woman is wearing is it? So now I’m trying to track it down and prove it. The original sighting was in Japan, or so the stories claim. I’ve been talking to Seungkwan’s mom as well – really nice lady – and if you go far enough back on their family register, the stories get very interesting. A long line of women with abilities, strong and weak both, always moving, always migrating after the robe, as if something in them wanted it back.”

 

Mingyu’s heart thumped painfully. “Because they wanted to go home?”

 

“Because they wanted to go home,” Wonwoo confirmed. “The robe itself was real, I’ve been able to confirm that. It left Miho no Matsubara to travel to the Imperial Court as a tithe, meant to unite with the three Imperial treasures. Along the way, however, it was taken in a wukou pirate raid as near as I can tell, and it made its way first south, to Okinawa, then north to Korea. That’s where it disappears on me. All I’ve been able to track down is a fragment that said it was used as part of a wedding dowry. Whose? I don’t know.”

 

Mingyu gave a sigh and a mumble, urging his _hyung_ to continue.

 

“The last time I can confirm it was seen – confirm, mind you – was as part of the Goryeo dynasty, at a party somewhere in the 1100s, where a historical account notes that an Imperial Princess was seen with a robe of ‘remarkable silken lustre like the wing of a starling’. It gets confusing after that. I’m thinking that Bukhansan, so close to the old capital, might have more records, but I’ve not heard word yet… Mingyu-ah?” He tilted his head sideways, sighing as he found his dongsaeng asleep. Especially now in slumber, his face released a little of its perfection, and he reached over to gently tuck away a twisted lock of hair that fell over one eyebrow.

 

Giving up on the notion of carrying the taller, more muscular boy to his bed, he set the floating books down, removed them off the bed and waved a hand at the light to switch it to a dim setting. It was no effort at all to creep in underneath the blanket, nor to fall asleep next to his friend.

 

=============================================

 

August 8:

 

Seungcheol woke up in an empty dorm on the morning of his birthday to a silence so vast it beat against his eardrums, still dressed in last night’s clothes. Grimacing, he stripped everything off his bed and wandered out towards the kitchen to toss them in the washer, eyeing the note left for him atop a plate of what looked like cold noodles. Seungkwan-ah’s precise handwriting wished him congratulations on behalf of the entire group, and told him their gift was a morning of waking up quietly.

 

He rolled his eyes, made a run through the bathroom and into the shower, and wandered out to get dressed – white shirt and ripped jeans, something that emphasized the shoulders he was getting from the tough workout sessions. Two rings, one earring and a pair of Timberlands later on, he made his way out of the dorm and into the staffer’s car, grinning at their congratulations.

 

Things at the office was hectic, especially as he was shown into the room where they’ve been keeping his presents. “What the…,” he got in surprise before he remembered the cameras following him around. “Ahh…. Sorry!” The room was absolutely filled with presents, stacked up against the walls and laid out in artistic displays on mannequins, little display tables and even a table with copies of donations to various charities in his name. _That_ was the best part of it in his opinion, though the conference table full of cake looked good enough to dive into.

 

“Ahhh…” he got out, overwhelmed, and went where they pointed him, smiling the happiest smile for the camera that he could. He could feel his cheeks colouring, feeling shy enough to duck his head. “I never knew there were so many generous fans out there. You spoil me too much, thank you!” Biting his lip, he reached out to a cute, plushie bear on one of the closest displays and squeezed it against him. The affection threatened to overwhelm him, and he slowly looked up at the camera. “Thank you so much for all the donations in my name as well, and all the clothes and jewellery, and even the bus ads.”

 

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t know any of you six months ago, and it’s been such a rollercoaster since then that sometimes I don’t get the chance to catch up with you. So, we’ve been collecting questions for the past week on the fancafe, and I’m going to answer a few for you, okay?” He reached out to the papers the staffer handed over, and scrolled through them with his eyes.

 

Reading all of them didn’t take a lot time, but some were heart-rending, and he soon had tears in his eyes. The fan-café comments touched him just as much, and under the table his hands were cramp-tight on the plushie. A lot of them were telling him what the albums meant to them, what the music made them feel, and he saved a few to show to Jihoon-ah.

 

“…but I suppose that is what love is,” he said thoughtfully after an answer, tilting his head up. “And that is what, as a leader, I want our fanbase to know as well. We say that we love you, and sometimes people wonder if it’s real, or just idol training. Do we even see your faces when we are on the stage?” He set the plushie aside and leant on the table to look directly into the camera. “We see you, of course we do. We see with our hearts, and we understand the love that you give us, and that makes me so happy and proud my band tease me about breaking down and crying.”

 

“It’s that love that I want our fans to carry with them always. Take a deep breath, forget all the stresses in your life for a moment, and just tell someone that you love them. It can be another fan, your family, a friend, a teacher… even someone that you have a crush on. As often as you can, until you show everyone the love that we feel every time we perform. I would never have gotten where I am today without people loving and listening to me, ready to dispense advice. Being in this band fills my heart, and I hope that being our fans fills yours too.”

 

He took a deep breath and tried to smile. “I’m going to say goodbye now, but there will be pictures and clips later on, and perhaps we can give you a tiny studio tour. For now, bye bye… remember to love each other!”

 

The camera clicked off and he could relax from the pressures of being on a live broadcast. Seungmin- _hyung_ , looking a little wet-eyed himself, came to clap him on the shoulder with approval, and the staff left him there for a short moment before a hideous rumble of noise sounded at the door. Seungkwanie thundered in, tears in his eyes, and tried to hug the stuffing out of him.

 

“ _Hyung_!” he cried happily. “Oh my gosh, _hyung_ , teach me to be that cool as well! I watched the whole broadcast in the practice room, you were really epic. I love you too, _hyung_ , I love you so much!”

 

Gently, because Seungkwan was his favourite dongsaeng even though he was loathe to admit it, Seungcheol hugged him back and stood, pushing the bear into his arms. “Tissue?” he grumbled out, and took the pack Seungmin- _hyung_ pushed his way, careful not to rub his eyes too much. “Come on, let’s go pick out a cake we want so that the staff can redistribute the rest.”

 

“Cake~” Seungkwan chanted happily as he passed him over to Minghao-ahfor a short, back-clapping hug. “We get to eat cake!”

 

Late that afternoon, looking at his phone, he found a single text there, and it made his eyes tear up again, memories of a too-loud woman with cat-eyes and oilslick hair popping up in his mind.

 

That Damn Woman: That was sweet of you. Happy birthday, Seungcheol-ah.

 

================================================

 

August 10:

 

Their producers and managers sat in a row at the top of the table, with the band spread out around it, each with a thick folder in front of them. Seokmin watched as they looked to and fro at each other, and finally resorted to a round of kai-bai-bo. Their main manager, Kim Hyungwon-ssi, groaned out loud as he lost to Jiminie- _hyung_ , who pumped the air with victory and let out a quiet ‘yes!’ of effort. Straightening, and ignoring the roll of eyes Bumzu- _hyung_ was giving him, he smiled his sunshine smile at them, the one that made Seokmin smile whenever he saw it as well.

 

“Congratulations!” he said happily, reaching out to pat the folder in front of him. “Boys Be has been at the number one spot for almost two months now, and it even managed to make a bump on the overseas charts! You’ve all worked so hard for this, and it’s nice to see all that hard work pay off. Mansae!” He lifted his arms in the air, echoed by all the other producers.

 

Seokmin giggled behind a hand before he applauded heartily; next to him Soonyoung- _hyung_ was doing a little chair-dance, and poor Jihoon- _hyung_ looked as if he would break down and cry. A lot of the stress of the past album landed on him, especially since he had input on most of the songs and produced nearly the entirety of it. At the other side of the table Seungcheol- _hyung_ caught their eyes, and led them into a seated bow of thanks to their managers.

 

“As such,” Seungmin- _hyung_ continued, “A lot of other opportunities has opened up, so we need to discuss them and see what works out best for the team. You’re steering this ship very capably so far with the methods that you choose, so please continue. First, however, a couple of announcements: as you might know, our Jiminie here has managed to win the heart of the biggest bas… excuse me, Yoongi- _hyung_ , so he will be having a small ceremony soon and we’re all invited.”

 

“We promise no shenanigans!” Jiminie- _hyung_ said from the side. “It’s just going to be you guys and the other _hyungdeul_  and staff from here. No gifts, okay?”

 

“We’ll make you a wedding dance!” Soonyoung- _hyung_ promised next to him. “Leave it to us, _hyung_.”

 

“Secondly!” Seungmin- _hyung_ said over their loud congratulations. “Secondly, the band has officially arrived on the scene, Weekly Idol has approached us about doing a show with them soon, all thirteen of you, on a dedicated episode. Added to that, CEO-nim has given his approval for a reality show, which we’ll film just before the end of the year here but will be broadcasted in February next year. And no, we’re not going to tell you where.”

 

“Hyuuuung,” Channie whined. “ _Hyung_ , that’s our birthday month, c’mon, tell ussss…”

 

“No,” Seungmin- _hyung_ said serenely. “The last bit of news… this is a big one. Growth in the fan-café has been explosive, and your fans have been petitioning us – read: swamping the official channels – for a fandom name of their own. We had planned to do this next year after some local appearances, but the board has authorised a full tour, with a few days here in Seoul before going overseas on a tour of the countries around us. It’s going to be a lot of tight scheduling, but what do you say?”

 

The room exploded with noise, everyone trying to talk over one another. To and fro, until the meeting degenerated into chaos and their _hyungdeul_ left them to get over the shock.

 

“Read the binder!” Seungmin- _hyung_ shouted just before he closed the door. “There’s other stuff in there too!”

 

===============================================

 

August 11:

 

Jin sat cross-legged on his favourite cushion in his husband’s office, looking down at the large box on his lap. Very reverently, his fingers traced along the edges of it, and it felt odd to have removed it from his home to bring here. Joonie had asked for his family register though, so here it was, complete with Joonie’s young apprentice sitting quietly at the third side of the table. Wonwoo-ah looked too young, too young by far, but he was two years older than Jin had been when he inherited the family business.

 

It brought up too many memories.

 

“I was able to find the princess that Wonwoo-ah talked about,” Joonie said. “You were correct in that Bukhansan’s records would not have been as destroyed as the mundane ones. One of her sons, an Imperial prince outside the bloodline, left to meet his Mongol bride, but it says here that he met with misfortune along the way, and his party was rescued by a mountain tribe. They don’t say how long he spent there, but roughly two years later he returned to the court here with his princess in tow. It wasn’t a happy marriage, apparently, but she did bear him one son, who was said to be cursed from the cradle.”

 

“He was the wellspring of my family line,” Jin said quietly, fingers cramping into the stiff leather of the register. “I never knew, I never bothered to read back that far. I didn’t know we had any ties with that caste at all. But he persevered, at least long enough to have a son, and so on, and so on. None of us lived very long, I knew that much. Earlier I had wondered how I would die, whether it’d be from the two curses I bore, but I suppose it was enough for her to know that I’d never have biological kids. And then Jujak happened. Are you sure about the robe, Wonwoo-ah?”

 

The kid nodded his dark head, stoic face looking a little sad. “I traced it from the beach to here, Seungkwan-ah’s mother helped me with information from their register. From there, I lost it with this prince you’re talking about, but I do think it’s with her, that somehow something had happened on the Chinese mainland, and that he gave it to her out of thanks for rescuing him, or for more personal reasons.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Jin- _hyung_. I never wanted to bring up bad memories.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jin whispered as he left the register to pick up the photo of the woodblock painting of the prince. Accounting for genre and era, it was so close to his own features it felt nauseating. “I always thought it was just a silly family myth, like so many others families tend to keep up. It wasn’t until we had to rescue Joonie that I thought it might be real, because I saw her, and her anger, and the incandescent light of her soul. If he wronged her as she hinted…”

 

“Then we are sitting with a very dangerous ghost,” Joonie completed. “One still wreaking havoc on your family.”

 

Wonwoo-ah frowned. “How so? And why would she attack Jisoo- _hyung_?”

 

Jin cleared his throat. “You became my family the day that Jiminie started thinking of you as his kids,” he murmured. “You may not be biological, but I love all of you like you might have been. Perhaps Jisoo-ah was just an opportunity. I’m so glad we got you into the new warded apartments. If she somehow managed to get hold of Hansol-ah’s power of foresight…”

 

“Seungkwan-ah will do whatever she wants to save Hansol-ah,” Wonwoo-ah muttered. “And that, with the robe, might make her powerful enough to destroy you once and for all.”

 

“And the world with it,” Joonie murmured.

 

==============================================

 

August 12:

 

Hansol screamed himself awake from a nightmare, struggling to get past the blankets that bound him. The sheets wanted to stick to him in the comfortably cool room, wet with sweat. He fell out of bed, moving too quickly, but managed to free himself from the blankets, retaining only enough control to pause and pull on underwear before he went running. He nearly burst their door open, then did the same to the dorm China Line slept in. As he thundered through their living room he could hear the snap-whine of spell energy in his mind still, and had no compunction at all about kicking their door open. In his panic, he was strong enough that it half-burst from its frame.

 

There was no time to be shocked that Jun- _hyung_ was apparently treating Minghao- _hyung_ like his personal blanket. Instead, he pounced and grabbed the thinner boy’s shoulders, shaking him roughly awake. “Phone them!” he screamed. “Phone them and warn them not to take the plane! Tell them not to get on!” He felt like a madman, shaking and shaking, with death and destruction wheeling in his mind, and he couldn’t let go, even though he was bruising Minghao-ah badly. “Tell them not to get on, it’s a trap, it’s a tr..”

 

A set of hands wrestled him away, rolling him off and down to the floor to pin him there; Channie’s face registered only hazily. “It’s a trap!” he screamed, dimly hearing Jun- _hyung_ shout at Minghao- _hyung_ in Mandarin.

 

That’s when Seungkwan showed up, pushing Chan away to pull him into his arms, and in his Boo’s embrace his mind grew still, enough for his body to calm down and his frantic heart-rate to slow down. He pressed his face in his Jeju boy’s neck, likely wrinkled his sleep-shirt terribly, as he shuddered and cried, trying to get past the vision of the great fireball of a wreck and the sound of Minghao- _hyung_ ’s parents’ screams as they burned alive, trapped by maleficent sorceries.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small kind of discussion about sex in this chapter. It's not necessary to read for the plot so feel free to skip it if you wish, but as this story is slice-of-life I wanted to mention it somehow.

_August 13:_

The next morning brought with it record highs of everything: early in the morning it was already so humid that everything felt wet to the touch. The air was sullen and angry with clouds, threatening a massive thunderstorm, but they did nothing to block the heat – the weather channel had promised record highs for the day. All in all, it was the kind of day that Seungkwan would have preferred to avoid, especially with the previous night’s terrors. It had taken him two hours to calm Hansol down properly to sleep, and he wasn’t looking forward to waking either him or Wonwoo- _hyung_ up this morning. He wasn’t even sure where Jeonghan- _hyung_ had slept, though he had his suspicions.

 

He rolled out of bed and stretched until his spine popped, slowly warming up as the room adjusted the refraction index on the windows to let more light in. A quick shower took care of most of the accumulated night grime, and a thorough skin cleaning did the rest, leaving his skin clear and smooth. Tossing his things in his laundry bin, he made for the kitchen, picking through cupboards and pulling out some of Hansol’s _halmeonim’s dongchimi_ out of the fridge. There wasn’t much at all in there, it tended not to last, but it would do for a little breakfast kimchi.

 

Fifteen minutes later he wondered how Mingyu made it look so easy. His potato and onion stirfry came out looking okay, and the eggs weren’t a challenge anymore, nor was the rice, but the sticky garlic chips banchan weren’t quite as sticky as they should be, and the sliced meat to go into the cooker with the kimchi and rice was maybe a bit too brown.

 

 _Who cares. They’re getting a free homemade breakfast,_ he grumped internally.

 

By the time he cleaned up, his phone alarm had already gone off once, and he sallied forth to do battle. Of the four guys in the dorm, Wonwoo- _hyung_ and Hansol were the most difficult to wake up, and their room was still dark when he got in, with the curtains pulled in front of the window. He yanked them open, spilling sunlight into the room. “Wake up!” he thundered, going to smack sides and legs and everything that stuck out. For a second Wonwoo- _hyung_ ’s murder wall phased him, but he redoubled the smacks on his lower back, feeling no hesitation about yanking his blankets off. “Wake up, _hyung_! There’s breakfast, we have a full schedule today.”

 

Wonwoo- _hyung_ pried one eye open, glaring at him with the force of ten typhoons. “Go. Away.”

 

“You can go and shower in our bathroom, we’re already done,” Seungkwan said breezily, caring precisely zero about the threat to his health. He woke Hansol a little more gently, knowing the boy had had only a few hours’ sleep after he got him back to bed the night before. Gently twitching back the blankets – Hansol had a habit of sleeping naked – he sighed softly to find him still knocked out. He waited until Wonwoo- _hyung_ had grumbled his way out of the room before he shook him gently, carding his fingers through his hair.

 

“Wake up,” he murmured softly. “We have a schedule today, and the bus is going to be here at eight.”

 

He hadn’t expected Hansol’s arm to come out and wrap around his waist, nor the hand that tucked one thumb through his jeans’ belt loop to keep him there.

 

Hansol pried one eye open. “Are they safe?” he asked bluntly.

 

Seungkwan nodded, not cruel enough to keep the news to himself. “Minghao- _hyung_ caught them as they were boarding,” he shared. “They managed to get the plane grounded, and last I heard they were doing investigations.” A frown formed on his forehead. “I thought that we were over this, what with the Yùlóng being taken care of. I thought you wouldn’t get any more of these.”

 

“I don’t know, Boo,” Hansol admitted as he closed his eyes again. “I get the feeling it had only been a lull.” Seconds later his nose wrinkled. “You smell like breakfast.”

 

Seungkwan took his chance as Hansol closed his eyes, tickling fingertips down from his neck along the dip of his spine, grinning as his friend – boyfriend? – friend squirmed. “I made breakfast. It’s not cheeseburgers or chocolate, but it’s got some of your _halmeonim’s dongchimi_ in it. It’s not Mingyu- _hyung_ ’s level though, so no promises.”

 

Hansol squirmed away, pulling his arm back. “You made breakfast for us?” he asked, sounding obscurely touched. “For real?”

 

“For real,” Seungkwan promised as he stood. “Grab a shower and I’ll have everything ready by the time you get to the table.”

 

As it turned out, neither of the guys cared that the meat was a little too brown, or the garlic bits not as sticky as they should be. They wiped the dishes clean as Seungkwan looked on, slowly eating his small bowl of granola and apple with almond butter. When Jeonghan- _hyung_ walked back in, looking like the cat that had gotten the cream, there was none of it left, and the expression on his _hyung_ ’s face made him laugh.

 

=======================================

It had been a nightmare morning for Minghao, one in which he had been required to smile and pose and court the camera when all he felt like doing was run away. When he finally got the call he had been dreading, he nearly cried with relief at the good news. “They’re okay,” he said to the circle of waiting faces clustered around one makeup station. “They managed to find the anchors for the spells just now, down in the cargo hold with some of the checked luggage. The man whose luggage it was knows nothing, same as the guy with the bomb here. They said it looked like someone had mind-controlled him, they found traces of drugs in his system. They’ll text me the names for Jin- _hyung_.”

 

“What were they doing on the flight though?” Jun- _hyung_ asked, dragging a hand through his hair, careful not to mess the fresh-looking makeup off. “I’m so out of date on their schedules.”

 

Minghao’s mouth pursed, fairy-face looking sombre. “They were en route to Switzerland to take your brother to Le Rosey early,” he admitted. “They wanted to give him some time to acclimatise and to discuss security with the staff there. He’s fine. They didn’t tell him what nearly happened, it was just a systems malfunction to most people on the flight.”

 

Jun- _hyung_ ’s face went pasty-white underneath his makeup and he turned without explanation, going to hug Hansol tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

 

Hansol accepted the pats on the back before he stepped away, clearly uncomfortable.

 

“I wonder,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ said. “I wonder if I wouldn’t be able to get something from their minds that they don’t know consciously. From the bomber at the showcase, at least.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ vetoed. “You’re not going anywhere close to that guy, Hannie. Besides, do you know what it’s going to do if our fans find out that we’ve been to a police station? We might have gotten away lucky with the publicity last time, but we don’t want to get that kind of reputation.”

 

“But I…”

 

“No,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ said simply. “And that’s that. We’re idols, not occult detectives. Let the people that deal with this kind of thing on a daily basis deal with it.”

 

“You should ask Seulgi-noona,” Jihoon- _hyung_ muttered from the side. “Or are you shy, _hyung_?”

 

“Yah!” Seungcheol shouted.

 

Everyone else, sensing a story, leant in closer. “Who’s Seulgi-noona?” Jisoo- _hyung_ asked. “Do we know her?”

 

“Oh!” Seungkwan said, clapping his hands together. “That’s the lady on the bike, right? She named her bike Lilian? The, um, Hayabusa that Jihoon- _hyung_ is so in love with?”

 

Soonyoung- _hyung_ laughed as Jihoon- _hyung_ gave Seungkwan a rapid rat-tat finger-gun to answer the question. “You’ve all met her before, in any case. She’s on our protection detail sometimes, and her younger brother lives upstairs with Jiminie- _hyung_.”

 

Jeonghan- _hyung_ ’s mouth hung open. “The cat?” he asked incredulously. “I mean, the _shisa?_ You’re talking about the _shisa’s older sister?_ ” His gaze flicked to Seungcheol. “You have a thing for Bubble’s sister?”

 

“If ‘having a thing’ means that he turns into a fool that can’t speak and just blushes, he totally has a thing for her,” Jihoon- _hyung_ said like the savage he was. “It’s sad to see from the outside, and just a little funny.”

 

Minghao quietly slipped backwards to let them fight it out – he wouldn’t bet against Seungcheol- _hyung_ grounding the lot of them – and met Jun at the doorway. “Phone him,” he insisted quietly. “We need intel from back home, _hyung_ , and she was in deep enough to give us names.”

 

Jun- _hyung_ nodded and snuck out of the room to make the call as Minghao looked on as Jisoo- _hyung_ stepped into the argument to get info out of their leader.

 

======================================================

 

Jeonghan peeked into the practice room where Jiminie- _hyung_ normally worked, smiling as he entered. He was one of the few people that he knew that could out-dance Soonyoung-ah, and he felt privileged to see him dance like this, stripped down to a bare black t-shirt and leggings, improvising as he went. His movements were so smooth and practiced he could barely detect where one ended and the other began. So, listening to the song until he ended, he waited until then to applaud, surprising a small squeak from his _hyung_.

 

“Jeonghan-ah, am I going to have to put a bell on you?” Jiminie- _hyung_ teased, going to grab a towel. “You’re getting entirely too good at shielding your mind. What’s up?”

 

Jeonghan wandered in and tossed him a bottle of water from the small drinks fridge in the corner of the room. “Do you have a few moments to talk?” he asked quietly. “I’ve got a sensitive question, and I’m really not sure who else to talk to about this.”

 

“Oh?” Jiminie- _hyung_ murmured. “And you couldn’t discuss it with Seungmin- _hyung_? What’s the question?”

 

Jeonghan sank down on the seats along the side. “How does one have sex?” At Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s dumbstruck look, he grimaced. “With a guy, I mean. Not a girl. Very definitely a guy. It’s not like I could just watch porn and surreptitiously Google it.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ tilted his head. “If I offered you fifty thousand won to go and ask Bumzu- _hyung_ this, would you?” he asked humorously. “Because I’d love to see what his reaction is to one of his kids growing up.”

 

“Your kids too,” Jeonghan said awkwardly. “And no offense, I might be a little shit at times, but not… not about this. It’s kind of important that I don’t screw this up.” He considered a bit. “I don’t want it to hurt and be painful and off-putting. The guy I’m involved with, he doesn’t deserve that.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s eyes gentled and he approached, settling on the seats as well. “It’s going to be a bit painful the first time anyway,” he murmured. “To be honest, I thought it’d be one of the other couples that might ask me first. It’s not really a secret in the company how some of the boys feel about each other. Are you asking just for yourself, or are there others that you think might need the talk too?”

 

Jeonghan flushed, but pushed through the embarrassment. “Is there a way we can do it without putting up a figurative banner?” he muttered. “Because yes, I think there might be a few people in the band that need that talk. I don’t want to out them or anything, but if I can tell them that there is someone they could speak to about this kind of thing if they asked me, at least I’d be comfortable sending them to you, or someone that you recommend.”

 

“Jin- _hyung_ gave me the talk,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said, eyes misty with memories. “It was perhaps the most comprehensive, embarrassing experience of my life, but he covered bases I didn’t even know needed to be covered. Porn isn’t always accurate, you know; I’m glad you’re not basing your education on that. And it’s not just sex, but the issue of sexuality at large. There’s such a small body of work on it in this country, and it’s such a fascinating study. I…” He broke off. “But apart from that I’ll help – of course I’ll help! Just let me know how many people, whether they want to have a one-on-one chat, or whether they can weather a larger session with Jin- _hyung_ and myself.”

 

Jeonghan slowly breathed out. “And, um, the practical stuff that you buy at pharmacies and…”

 

“The little shop in the apartment building is fully stocked,” Jiminie- _hyung_ assured him. “Just wait a bit with swinging past there until you’ve had the chat, okay? Otherwise you may buy the wrong stuff without knowing. Some lotion’ll help in the meantime – steal some of Jun-ah’s if you must. I’ll make it up to him. If I might ask…”

 

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Sure?”

 

“Who is it?” Jiminie- _hyung_ asked plaintively. “I mean, it’s impossible to ignore Hansol-ah and Seungkwan-ah making love eyes at each other, but I’ve not wanted to pry when it came to the rest of you. It’s someone in the band, right? Is it Cheollie-ya or Shua-ya?”

 

Jeonghan’s grin slowly grew. “Cheollie is straight,” he said breezily. “It’s Joshuji, of course. Thank you for not eavesdropping.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ laughed as he leant to give him a somewhat-sweaty hug. “Great taste,” he said soberly. “He’s cute. Get on with you, I’ve still got another hour’s practice to get in.”

 

Grinning, Jeonghan nodded and scooted, humming his way back to the team’s practice room.

 

=================================================

 

Sora peeked into the studio the Seventeen boys normally worked in, frowning at the place, which was as empty as her dorm’s larder. _The SMS had said he’d be here, so…_ “Studio probably,” she muttered to herself and crossed the wooden floor towards it. With how popular the band had gotten over the past few months, they had deserved the upgrade to this larger room, with its own dedicated little studio and a large break station along the way. Knocking on the door, she opened it… only to slam it shut again immediately.

 

Okay. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t to find Jihoon- _oppa_ and Soonyoung- _oppa_ making out. Not that it hadn’t looked hot. Her fangirl heart was beating so loudly, but there was a difference between knowing that two of your favourite idols were hooking up and seeing it right in front of your face. She needed a hand fan. She needed to squeal. She _needed_ to be in there taking photos because Kwon Soonyoung’s abs were the hottest thing she had ever seen and she hadn’t even known he had them. Or that Jihoon- _oppa_ liked being on top. Or… or…

 

Her mind short-circuited.

 

She pinched her eyes shut and slid down the wall just outside the room, emitting a whine that might as well have been supersonic. Her cheeks were hot against her hands as she lifted them to face-palm, likely because she was as red as a tomato. The sound of the door opening next to her made her flinch and blush more. “I’m sorry!” she got out hastily. “I’m so sorry, but this is the studio and he said he’d be here… please tell me the shirts are on again?”

 

“Uh,” Soonyoung- _oppa_ managed. “Um. I’m not quite sure what to say.”

 

“Don’t say anything,” Jihoon- _oppa_ snarled as he stepped out as well. “How could you forget to lock the door?” Pausing, he sunk down on his haunches next to her. “Sora-ssi? I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

“Hngh,” Sora got out intelligently, mind filled with Jihoon- _oppa_ doing _that_ to one of Soonyoung- _oppa_ ’s collarbones. “Hbrfl.”

 

“Guys?” came a voice from the entrance. “I was looking for… ah, Sora-ssi, there you are! Sorry, I ran a bit late.”

 

_Seokmin-oppa. Finally._

“…are you okay?” he asked. “You’re very red. Are you feeling ill?”

 

Sora took a deep breath and let her hands fall in the vast, uncomfortable silence that stretched. All three were looking at her; Seokmin- _oppa_ looked quizzical, and the other two stoic. Almost… afraid? What the hell?

 

“Uh, I accidentally hit my elbow against the wall trying to show Wangja-nim a new move I learnt,” Sora got out. The lie popped out so easily she was almost horrified. “It caught my funny bone and it really hurt for a few seconds, and I’m so embarrassed because I shrieked like I had seen a zombie or something. But I’m ready for that singing lesson?”

 

Seokmin- _oppa_ beamed his big, bright smile at her. “Let’s get started then – guys, we’re going to work on my projection, so…”

 

“Say no more,” Soonyoung- _oppa_ said. “We’re out of here.”

 

The two of them fled, leaving her with a grinning main vocalist. Slowly, inch by inch she relaxed under his sunshine personality and playful jokes until they settled into the exercises she had been taught. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that she saw the text on her phone.

 

 **???:** Sora-ssi, this is Lee Jihoon. I got your number from Jeonghan- _hyung_. I wanted to say thank you for earlier.

 **SR:** Jihoon- _oppa_? Thanks aren’t necessary, it was half my fault too.

 **JI:** Mostly ours, I yelled at Wanga-nim because he forgot to lock the door. I’m really sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean… I hope you’re not disgusted. Please don’t tell anyone. You can imagine what kind of a secret it is.

 **SR:** No! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

 **SR:** Not disgusted at all, Jihoon- _oppa_ , I promise! I’m so happy for you! Don’t worry, I will protect your secret! ρ(- ω -、)ヾ(￣ω￣; )

 **JI:** Is that you patting me on the back?

 **SR:** Yes!

 **SR:** Is it no good, Jihoon- _oppa_? I know you don’t like aegyo.

 **JI:** It’s okay coming from you, Sora-ssi.

 **SR:** Call me Sora! And please don’t yell at Wangja-nim too much? Ahhhh, I really can’t have you yelling at my bias.

 **JI:** Oh god, I am never teskgesjkrgergreg

 **JI:** SORA-SSI YOU ARE MY BIAS TOO YOU ARE PLEDIS’ LITTLE PRINCESS AHHH SO CUTE YOU ARE ALMOST AS CUTE AS JIHOONIE~

 **SR:** … Wangja-nim? Is that you?

 **JI:** YES I STOLE HIS PHONE HE IS TRYING TO GET IT BACK BUT HE CAN’T REACH MY ARMS ARE LONgwsgkefg

 **Ji:** I apologise, Sora-ssi. Well then, goodnight. Have good dreams and work hard, okay? Get a good night’s sleep too.

 **SR:** Alright, Jihoon- _oppa_. You and Wangja-nim too!

 

=====================================================

 

The call to Chan's girl went through without any problems, which phased Jun a bit. He had expected some waiting time, or a brief international delay. All he got was a click in his ear and the sound of background chatter. The girl he had called remained quiet however, letting the silence grow.

 

“Good day, Yue-mèi,” he said formally. “This is Wen Jun Hui. I apologise for phoning you directly but there is a question of some import that I need to ask about the Yùlóng.”

 

“Wen-gōng,” she murmured. “Please give me a moment.” From the sound of it, she moved between rooms, and the background chatter faded until silence reigned totally. A minute later, after hearing a door close, it sounded as if she sat down. “How did you get this number?”

 

Jun bit his lip. “I took a chance and asked Yoongi- _hyung_ for it last night. He gave it to me when I explained the situation, but only for information.”

 

“Is there a problem?” she asked, voice fading a little into colourless quiet.

 

“No, there had been a problem, but nothing you could help with,” he muttered. “I do need some knowledge rather urgently though – were you involved enough with matters back home to know who might have been running the Yùlóng’s string? Who sponsored them originally? There was an attempted attack on the Xu family and mine, but with them gone I had thought matters would calm down.”

 

“An attack?  One of us?”

 

“No, an attempted bombing of a plane they were about to board. Like the other bombing, the person seemed to be unaware, or at the very least under the influence of mind-altering drugs and spells.”

 

She remained silent for a few moments. “I attempted to root all of them out,” she finally said. “The shortlist of who would do this to the Wen family is very short. Have you ever considered why they called themselves that? The meaning of the word Yùlóng, not just it as a name?”

 

“Jade Dragon?” Jun wondered. “A dragon made of jade? It’s a precious stone, I know, and the cultural impact is obviously incalculable…”

 

“I think,” Yue interrupted, “that you should ask your father that question. I can’t say any more. I’ve a different task these days, and I can’t afford it getting compromised. “

 

Jun blinked as the call ended, and he turned his head to look at the phone. Frowning, he carefully selected his father’s name and made the call.

 

===========================================

 

_August 18:_

Sora wandered tiredly into Sunshine Studio, briefly thankful that her ordeal there a couple of months ago hadn’t put her off being there. Her father had bought her a flat in the same building as Jiminie- _oppa_ and Yoongi- _oppa_ , but she preferred it here at the studio, or even at the Pledis building.

 

Her life was strange now; as she had passed her college entrance exam early on her mother’s insistence, she had no more school, and her vocal and dance training was far beyond what the company mandated for its first-year idols, so she was more of a gofer than a wannabe idol. She ran around for just about everyone that wanted her services, from the vice-president right on down to her _unniedeul_ in After School and Pristin. She hadn’t thought she’d like it, but she did.

 

Very briefly she thanked the stars for meeting Channie on that day; he had set off a chain reaction that had ended her here, even if it had been difficult. Even if it…

 

Her thoughts dragged to a stop as she heard arguing. It happened here sometimes, though Hobi- _oppa_ didn’t approve of it at all. She frowned as she walked through the entrance to the small seating area, then past to the soup kitchen. Her frown deepened as she spotted Iri-chan, a girl that had somehow found her way here from Japan only to fall in a cycle of drugs, more drugs and a pregnancy. The latter had prompted her to try and clean up, but things weren’t going well if her deadbeat boyfriend was here yelling at her.

 

“Dongwon-ssi,” she said as she stepped closer, fear rilling down her spine. “Dongwon-ssi, please step yelling. Hobi- _oppa_ told you that you’re not welcome here anymore. Please leave.”

 

Iri-chan looked up, eyes hazy in a way she knew all too well, but even through that there was fear, and she pulled the girl in behind her as she used her height to stare Shin Dongwon down.

 

“Bitch owes me money,” he grunted, trying to push past her. “I know this place is loaded. Get out of my way, I ain’t here for you girl…”

 

She circled, jaw right, as she kept the girl behind her. “How much does she owe you?” she asked tightly, hearing a whimper from Iri-chan. “And what did you give her?”

 

Shin Dongwon wasn’t stupid, but he _was_ rash. As she moved to cut him off again he swung a huge meaty fist at her, and it clipped her on the cheek as she ducked back. It felt like fire exploded in her face, and her mind curled away from the violence, wanted to go to sleep as it had whenever her mother or her instructor had beat her. It was only the feeling of Iri-chan’s small body behind her that made her stand there, that made her pull herself up to take the second blow in as much silence as she could.

 

She never saw who pulled him off her, just the suggestion of a tremendous burst of speed and a form moving past her into the alleyway beyond the kitchen.

 

“Sora-ssi,” Iri-chan’s blurry voice prompted her as she stared and stared. “Srrrrsssh?”

 

Sora shook her head to clear her thoughts and immediately regretted it when it felt as if her jaw wanted to fall off. “It’s okay,” she tried to say, but only got out a mumble as she hugged Iri-chan to quell her worries. “Phone. Need my phone.”

 

Together they worked to get the phone out of her bag, and she unlocked it to phone. Hobi- _oppa_ was out on a date with the queen, so she felt guilty about disturbing them. Instead, hoping against hope, she phoned the toughest person she knew in case whoever tore Dongwon-ssi away had trouble.

 

“Sora-ssi?” came Bumzu- _oppa_ ’s voice moments later. “This is a little late, is something…”

 

“ _Oppa_ ,” she got out, mumbling. “ _Oppa_ , need help please. Sunshine Studio. Plsss.”

 

He said something nasty and promised to be right over, but the sound of the kitchen door opening distracted her, and she blinked as a filmy-looking woman in a feathered robe entered. “I’m sorry,” the woman said in a strange accent. “But I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, little petal.”

 

The woman looked strangely familiar, as if she had seen her before, but her memory failed her, as if it turned hazy at the critical point. It was only as she pulled a thin sword out of nothing that adrenaline broke through the block placed on it. This time, instead of slicing through her flesh with the wickedly sharp blade, the pommel struck her temple and she knew nothing further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Imagine a day that is over 33C/91F. Imagine it with thunderstorms looming and humidity in the 90s as well. 
>   2. It's canon that Hansol's grandmother's water radish kimchi is apparently really good. 
>   3. Seungkwan has my level of cooking skill: not bad enough to screw up everything, but not Kim Seokjin level either. I prefer to cook via mobile food delivery places. 
>   4. [Institut Le Rosey](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Institut_Le_Rosey) is one of the most expensive, if not the most expensive, private school in the world. It's in Switzerland and is autumn term begins in September. 
>   5. We find out more about the lady with the 'busa. 
>   6. When in doubt about the mechanics of anything, go to a person familiar with that lifestyle, don't just judge based on The Googles alone. 
>   7. One of the sets of boys was bound to get caught sooner or later. 
>   8. Everyone is doing the best to keep themselves safe, except for the actual person that works alongside druggies and easily influenced individuals. 
>   9. Domestic violence is an awful practice. I don't mean to condone it by writing about it, rather the inverse. 
> 



	42. Chapter 42

_August 18:_

Wen Junhui stared at the wall of his dorm room in the dark, thinking of what his father had told him. Secrets and more secrets, ugly ones stretching over a century back that he hadn’t known about, a literal genocide perpetrated by his clan.

 

Of the exact nature of the scandal involving the naga, and the man that had created the Yùlóng as a futile homage to his mad father, asleep at the bottom of the ocean under a spell bought by the blood of countless naga lives.

 

Ao Guang’s _son_ , who recently lost that same father when the ancient woke up hurting and mad, and was put down like a rabid dog. Of the Lost Babies, a single nest of naga that had fled and had been hunted by his family to prevent their blood being used as the key to unlock the dimension the slumbering ancient had been in.

 

Of the son that had managed to track the two surviving members of that nest down, first to try and free his father, then to get his revenge. Of the woman driven mad by her need for revenge, who saw all the dangling ends and thought to weave them into a tapestry to suit her own needs.

 

Of the countless bones slumbering under a gate he had not even known existed, back on his family’s property, charnel pits of sacrificed members of the Xu family, and the reason why his family were exorcists in the first place.

 

His hands shook as he tried to absorb the information. His mind literally could not absorb all that blood. The fact that he had not participated, that he hadn’t even known, didn’t make much of a difference. He had always had the naïve idea that his family were part of the white hats at the Court. This… this blew that out of the water, totally. He was so disgusted he could feel his stomach roil. He wanted to bend over a toilet and never get up.

 

Instead he took a deep breath and got up from his bed to salvage whatever honour his family had remaining. Not for him, not for his elders, but for his baby brother, who still had the luxury of innocence.

 

He trudged out through the apartment, ignoring Minghao-ah’s call for his attention, and out the apartment entirely, walking the steps up to the penthouse floor to give him a few moments to think. Hammering on the door with one fist, ignoring the call-panel, he didn’t stop until Jiminie- _hyung_ opened it, looking sleepy and irritated and worried.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said simply. “We have to talk.”

 

==============================================

 

Yoongi had been composing in his studio when the call came, and at first he had been irritated. Who called that late at night? He had looked at the name and frowned, slightly mollified but still irritated, and had answered. He hadn’t expected Sora-ya to sound as if she were drunk off her ass and slurring, and he hadn’t expected trouble at Hobi’s place at all. When he got there, finding a dead guy in the alley and a hysterical, drugged-up teen in the kitchen, with no sight of Sora-ya beyond a crushed phone, his blood ran cold. The girl was so drugged that he couldn’t get a single good image out of her mind, but her babbling had said enough: a ghost bird had taken Sora-ya away, one with a sword.

 

He knocked her out with a single thread of power, resting her as neatly on the floor as he could. Dimly aware that Hobi had had some kind of date the evening, he scrolled through his contacts and phoned the _chollima,_ pacing to and fro. In the back of his mind Jimin was a knot of worry and irritation, but he couldn’t figure out what, his boyfriend had withdrawn a little. “Hobi,” he said as the call went through, with the background sounding almost like a fancy restaurant. “We’ve got a problem.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Hobi got out, sounding acutely irritated. “I’m in the middle of something here, I told you I’d not be available for the recording tonight.”

 

“Screw the recording,” Yoongi got out crisply. “And screw your date. I’m at your studio. Sora-ya called me because she probably didn’t want to disturb you, and now that I’m here there’s a body, a girl that was screaming my ears off probably because she thought I was a monster and Soya-ya is missing.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at the sleeping girl. “And the only lead I have is a drugged-up girl that said the bad ghost bird had taken her. I thought this place was warded?”

 

Hobi didn’t precisely say anything to him, but he could feel a cold kind of anger growing, and he heard a murmured apology. The call ended, but under a minute later Hobi strode into the kitchen, looking angrier than he had ever seen him. “You can’t place intent-based wards on a halfway house, Yoongi- _hyung_ , most of the people that require help wouldn’t be able to get in. The main studio is warded, but not this portion. She shouldn’t even have been here tonight.”

 

Yoongi kept his mouth shut and nodded as Hobi went to look at the corpse, then come back in to look at the girl.

 

“Iri-chan’s boyfriend,” Hobi returned to say. “He had been warned before not to come back here. I won’t be able to tell you more until she wakes up and sobers up. Explain about Sora.”

 

“She phoned me about five minutes ago, asking me to come here,” Yoongi explained. “I barely clicked save and came here, but by that time the call had ended and she was gone. Her phone’s over there, crushed. She stays over here sometimes, right? Do you have anything of hers to perform a tracking ritual with?”

 

Hobi grimaced and left, returning minutes later with a slip of cardboard worn thin. On it, barely visible still, was ‘Sunshine Studio’, and the edges were smooth and soft from handling. “Here,” he said. “She once told me it was her greatest treasure, so… let’s try not to lose it, okay?”

 

“Perfect,” Yoongi muttered, taking it. “Now we just need a good tracker.”

 

=====================================

 

In a way, Seungkwan had been expecting something to go wrong. He felt happier than he ever did in his life that he could remember, even in that other reality he had caught a glimpse of. Even though the day had been sullen and unwilling to clear up, the group had performed well, he had gotten all his idol homework done and even his studies were going well. To add to that, he hadn’t really gotten to be close to Hansol throughout the day, but here he was, back pressed against his as they quizzed each other on transitive verbs.

 

Feigning tiredness, he leant his head back on Hansol’s shoulder, manfully resisting the temptation to bite the shell of his ear. “How many more questions?” he asked instead.

 

“Just a few. You’re doing well.”

 

“We’re doing well. That website your sister recommended was genius.”

 

“Hmm,” Hansol agreed. “Do you want some tea?”

 

“I’ll go and make it – coffee?” Seungkwan asked as he got up slowly, stretching the kinks in his spine out. He padded into the open-plan kitchen, and reached up to the cupboard that held the teabags. Feeling impish, he pulled down one of the colour changing mugs for his… his…

 

He stilled and turned to look at Hansol, from the rough curls from no smoothing after the shower, to the way he scrolled through his phone, to the limbs he was sure was becoming longer than his. He wasn’t his cute puppy any longer. Instead… instead…

 

“Chwe Hansol,” he said clearly, fingers gripping onto the counter out of worry. “Would you like to be my boyfriend?”

 

He waited, heart in his throat, but had no response from him, not even when his fingers started to bite into the counter from sheer irritation and one eyebrow started to twitch. “Yah!” he yelled, feeling a furiously disappointed pout forming on his face. “I’m speaking to you!”

 

Hansol’s body jerked from shock and he looked around, wide-eyed, pulling the earpods out of his ears. “I’m sorry, Boo, I was listening to a new song Bumzu- _hyung_ sent on, what was it?”

 

Seungkwan’s mouth fell open, then shut with a click of teeth, and suddenly what he had said stuck in his throat. “I… uh, do you want sugar in your coffee,” he muttered, turning to make it with the help of a few ice-cubes from the freezer. “And there are some cookies here.”

 

“Yes please!”

 

Seungkwan made the coffee with slow motions and yanked out a small plate for the cookies, carrying the whole lot back to the couch area.

 

 _Another time,_ he promised himself. _Another time._

 

Making himself comfortable, he had just about settled in when the dorm’s door opened and Jiminie- _hyung_ came in, followed by Jun- _hyung_. He had never quite swallowed a cookie so quickly, and had to fight not to cough as he jumped to his feet, obscurely glad he hadn’t given in to the desire to have coffee as well. “Jiminie- _hyung_?” he mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs, seeing the unwontedly serious look on his face. “ _Hyung_ , are you ok?”

 

“Seungkwanie,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said softly. “I’m sorry, but we need your help, yours and Hansol-ah’s. Jun- _hyung_ had a little bit of a problem. We need to go to the gate that you made in the temple, and only you have the key. Just a little detour first though.”

 

When Seungkwan switched his gaze to Jun- _hyung_ , he swallowed. The Chinese boy looked very pale and very… closed off. Remote, almost, like he couldn’t bear any expression to touch his blanched face. “Okay,” he said softly. He felt Hansol stand, moving to squeeze his shoulder from behind. “Okay, _hyungdeul_ , I can help, sure. Do you want to go now? Let me just put on some shoes if so.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ gave him a tight nod.

 

They scooted to their rooms for jackets and wallets and phones, conditioned to carry it on them all the time by now, and Seungkwan had barely struggled into a pair of sandals before they took the lift down, pausing only to collect Minghao- _hyung_ on the way. He looked like death warmed over as well, and it didn’t get better as Jun- _hyung_ talked to him in rapid Mandarin, too rapid for him to follow with his basic knowledge of the language.

 

Outside, Jiminie- _hyung_ did _something_ ; a cat leaped down from a balcony far above to land light as thistledown on his shoulder, settling in serenely. They stepped forward and the world shifted slowly by them, then faster and faster. Ocean passed, mountains, faces of people zipped past like frenzied hummingbirds, until they stood outside a large wall that looked at least thirty feet tall. Swallowing, Seungkwan reached out for Hansol’s hand, found it already searching for his, and clasped it for courage.

 

“Welcome to Beijing,” Jun- _hyung_ said bitterly.

 

======================================================

 

_Park Jimin._

_Not now, Yoongi._

_I… Jiminie? Are you okay?_

_No. I’m in Beijing. Please don’t come here. There’s something I need to fix._

_Sora-ya’s been kidnapped, Jiminie. From what the drugged-up witness said, by that woman that’s still after Jin-hyung._

_I can’t deal with it right now, Yoongi. I’ll come back when we’re done._

_We?_

_Myself, Jun-ah, Minghao-ah, Seungkwanie and Hansol-ah._

_Are you sure you don’t need me, Jiminie?_

_I… no. I can deal with this. But it’s fucked-up, Yoongi, as fucked-up as what Rea-gun and Tae’s grandmother did all those years ago. I’m so angry. Don’t follow me, please. I need to deal with this on my own._

_As long as you know that I love you. Come back safely._

_I love you too, Yoonie. Good luck with finding Sora._

=================================================

 

Mingyu yawned, looking around the posh office. Wonwoo- _hyung_ had come to talk to Namjoon- _hyung_ about something related to his new habit of making books float. He had explained, but Mingyu had understood exactly zero of what was going on. Instead, muttering his excuses, he wandered through the court instead, idling to the courtyards that meshed into each other with no rhyme and reason. There didn’t seem to be anyone around and god knows Wonwoo- _hyung_ would take his time, so he slowly ascended the steps until he came to the strangest sight he’s seen here yet.

 

The prayer gate that sat just before the mountain didn’t lead anywhere, but it was a gate nonetheless, all carved and beautifully pretty from what he could see in the twilight. The thick uprights keeping the carved top aloft were intricately carved with animals that seemed to twist and shift position whenever he looked away. He tried to catch them at it, but they were stubborn and only moved when he wasn’t watching. It was only as he went closer, touched one of the uprights, that the woman appeared.

 

“Hello,” she said in an oddly deep voice. She was tall too, taller even than he, almost looming like an Amazon. Her clothes were very old, cut and layered intricately. She didn’t wear a _hanbok_ as he would have expected, but a tunic with ankle-tied pants, and behind her she had a spear that caught the emerging moonlight. “I haven’t seen you around here before, young one.”

 

Mingyu bowed. “ _Noona_ ,” he said easily, though something suggested that she might be a lot older – then again he had called someone _ahjumma_ once and nearly gotten a slap for it. “No, I’m here with a friend. He’s busy talking to Namjoon- _hyung_.”

 

The woman’s eyes glittered. “What a pity,” she murmured. “Perhaps you can help me.”

 

A little thread of unease crept in as he looked at her, from vertically slit pupils to the easy, boneless way that she moved. Behind her, the gate’s animals moved faster now, almost frantically. “I… I can try?” he stammered, willing his feet not to give a step back. “I can go and fetch someone if you want?”

 

“It’s okay,” she said in a hoarse voice, and shifted just enough for him to see what was tucked in behind the uprights of the gate: bodies, _corpses_ , all the guards he hadn’t seen on the way up here, with their blood starting to pool around the uprights. “I know my way around.” The spear flashed out with a hummingbird flicker as it stabbed him clear through his stomach, grating along his spine.

 

Mingyu’s breath whooshed out of him with a vast, soundless rush, and he screamed as the pain began.

 

The vast blood ritual began, stone anointed by a true innocent’s blood, and the wards around Bukhansan howled as the assault began.

 

==================================================

 

“Again,” Kookie- _hyung_ ’s voice came, frustratingly even.

 

Chan rolled up from the mat he had been ‘murdered’ on and wanted to groan. This time they even had visitors, a pretty lady with oilslick hair that lounged on top of a low chest of drawers as if she owned it, a crow man from overseas that watched him with beady-looking black eyes, and a little baby. He wasn’t sure about the baby, but she saw on Kookie- _hyung_ ’s lap and chewed on one of his bracelets. He wondered dully if she was faster than he was as well. Likely.

 

Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, adjusted the grip of the blades in his hands and transferred his gaze to Tae- _hyung_ , who was looking at him as if he knew the answer to a joke that no-one else even knew existed. He still looked immaculate, even if he was only dressed in loose lounging pants and a torn t-shirt. He looked… he looked…

 

Chan shook his head, trying to concentrate through the low, stabbing pain in his stomach, writing it off as a phantom ache from a skipped lunch and dinner. It had been so hot he didn’t want to eat anything. Carefully lifting one foot, then the other, he tested their strength and frowned. He was down to being killed just a shade over forty times in an hour, which was something, but his legs felt strange, too leaden. He slowly put his right one down, feeling as if someone echoed the noise. It felt almost exactly like those scenes in the movies where the vampire’s coffin opened up with a thump.

 

_Keep it together, you can’t go crazy now, Channie. Just one more time, there isn’t that much time left…_

There wasn’t… there wasn’t…

 

“Hold,” the crow man ordered. “Something’s wrong.”

 

Chan blinked slowly, seeing lines around him. It looked like everything had its own echo floating just above it on waves of force. The people in the room were living flames that stung his eyes: Seulgi- _noona_ was a bonfire in oranges and reds, vivid colours all that waved slowly like smoke. Compared to her his _hyungdeul_ had very little colour to them individually but there was a node between them, a tie that pulsed blue-violet-red-pink like the most beautiful sunrise ever. The crow man was a dark, soft shade between black and orange, like banked coals. The baby was the brightest white he had ever seen.

 

There was a sun close by, an immensity of white-gold like a perfect match between silver and gold, with faint branches of green running through it. Time slowed to a sullen crawl as he looked down at himself, a yellow deepening to old gold around his heart, with flickers of red and orange threading through it.

 

The daggers in his hands tumbled down to the mat as he fell to his knees as the sun to his right exploded, invisible waves of power washing over him. The ache in his belly deepened as instincts that he never knew he had in his life clawed their way free, insisting something was wrong, something was deeply wrong, one of his charges was in danger.

 

Opening his mouth to call for help, he breathed out a thick column of smoke, and from it stepped the figure of a man clad in ancient regalia, back straight and black hair floating on unseen currents of air. “ _Sonja_ ,” he said in the deepest voice Chan had ever heard, even though he didn’t seem thick-set. In fact, he looked rather like… like…

 

“Rea- _harabeoji_ ,” Tae- _hyung_ got out in a cracked, thin voice. “It’s you.”

 

One moment there was nothing; in the next, they heard the shrieking impact as Bukhansan’s wards rang like a gong, overlaid by a very familiar scream that lit the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. All these events happen more or less at the same time, with the group leaving Seoul just a little before the rest. 
>   2. A lot of the behind-the-scenes politics hinted at in Jun's section will be discussed in the next chapter, when the Wen family's dirty dealings emerge. 
>   3. Seungkwan finally gets the courage to ask Hansol for his hand in, er, boyfriendhood. 
>   4. Someone has finally reached the end of Park Jimin's temper. 
>   5. Mingyu arrives in the wrong place at the wrong time. 
>   6. Chan finally starts waking up to his supernatural heritage. The aura colours here are as I found them on the internet; I'm not a reader myself. 
>   7. 'Sonja' means grandson and 'harabeoji' grandfather. For those that have not read the previous books, Rea is Taehyung's grandfather in this story, and there's a lot of bad blood surrounding their familial tie. He was killed by Jimin in an attempt to protect Taehyung from being sacrificed. 
> 



	43. Chapter 43

Seungkwan stared up at the complex wall, eyes tracing its dimensions. It stretched as far as he cared to see, reminding him of Bukhansan’s inner walls or an old-fashioned clan compound from anime. The gate itself was at least fifteen feet tall and looked very thick, and the walls stretched even taller. A single ceremonial gate was set into it, wide enough to allow two cars through next to each other. They were made of wood, but clasped with greened copper and inset with what looked to be medallions of jade. The medallions were the focus stones of some very ferocious wards, even though he couldn’t tell what, just that there were wards.

 

“Where are we?” Hansol asked next to him. “Besides in Beijing. And how did we get here so fast?”

 

Minghao- _hyung_ rolled his eyes expressively towards Jiminie- _hyung_ , as if that answered most of their questions. “This is the main house of the noble Wen family,” he said quietly, but bitterness lay thickly in it. “We are in the magical portion of the Forbidden City. It’s where the magical courts reside, through treaty with the People’s Republic. Watch.”

 

Seungkwan subsided and watched as Jun- _hyung_ strode forward, lifting his hand to the imposing gate. To his surprise the wards parted like filmy curtains and the gate swung open by itself, emitting no sound beyond a low scraping on the gravel driveway. Through it there was an impressive double-eaved building in classical Chinese style, and on the inside of the wall surrounding the property was a long mural of red dragons and serpents coiling together against a green background, with what looked like more copper insets against lazuli tiles. Even to him it looked astronomically expensive.

 

There were also guards there, stationed on every outlook, on the stairs leading up into the main building, around the insides of the walls. They turned as the gate opened and sunk down on one knee in unison, bending their heads to Jun- _hyung_ as he stepped through into the complex. Their greeting went by too fast to understand totally, but the total reverence in which they spoke it didn’t.

 

Of particular import to him was the way Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s face twitched, as if something offended him personally. Muji leapt down from his shoulder, prowled a little inward to press against Jun- _hyung_ ’s leg as he spoke to the guards, waving them away.

 

“What’s with the guards?” Hansol-ah whispered. “They look like they’re happy to see him?”

 

“This isn’t his actual house,” Minghao- _hyung_ muttered. “And he’s technically not the heir anymore, but in this place blood speaks and he’s the grandson of the prince. The Wen family has been ennobled since the Zhou dynasty, well over a thousand years. It’s worth their lives to be happy to see him.” He paused. “They’re bound to the house,” he said much more quietly. “The kind of oaths that allow nothing other than perfect dedication.”

 

The more Seungkwan listened, the more outraged he felt. There was such a thing as filial piety and respect, but he had never liked obsequiousness and this level of it irritated him. “They’re slaves?” he got out, throat tight.

 

“No,” Minghao-ah got out with a bitter smile. “We’ll get to my family in a bit.”

 

 _That_ nearly nailed Seungkwan to the spot as he looked at his _hyung_ with a horrified look. He knew that he was bound to the Wen family, but the implications in Minghao- _hyung_ ’s voice, plus the tattoo the _hyungdeul_ had fought about months ago, was starting to sketch a new picture.

 

“This way,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said abruptly. “I can feel the pull from here. It was no wonder you were never allowed back, Jun-ah.”

 

They turned and wandered along the length of the palace, not going inside, but seemingly heading to one of the far pavilions near the back corner of the place. Jun- _hyung_ was still looking white in the face, marching with militant precision with Muji by his side, with Jiminie- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ following after. Seungkwan fumbled for Hansol-ah’s hand and found it clammy; he didn’t look well either, and the more they walked the paler he became.

 

“I can feel it,” Hansol-ah whispered. “There’s something… something cold ahead, like the cell in my nightmares. Seungkwanie, I don’t think this is a good place.”

 

Seungkwan squeezed his hand and tried not to feel the same way. He could feel wards all over, but the little garden they headed to seemed to have a negative radiance to it, so thickly encumbered by wards he was surprised anyone could see past into the garden beyond. As they closed in on them, halting before a tall gate that looked eerily like a Buddhist prayer gate, he peered at the gold-clad lions on either side of it, half-expecting them to come alive. It was very cold, even in the dead of summer, and he wanted to run away in the worst way possible.

 

The lions didn’t move when Jiminie- _hyung_ addressed them, and Muji made a sound like he wanted to cough out a hairball. Hansol-ah’s hold on his hand tightened.

 

“This is the place?” Jiminie- _hyung_ asked Jun- _hyung_. “You’re sure?”

 

“It’s what he said. The Garden of Serene Tranquillity is something like a holy spot to my family. Even I’ve never been in here; it’s solely for the elders in the family…”

 

Minghao- _hyung_ made the same sort of noise in his throat as Muji did. “I’ve been inside,” he got out. “You don’t want to do this, Junnie. Some sights you can’t back away from.”

 

“You know what’s in here, Minghao-ah?” Jiminie- _hyung_ asked. “What stopped you from telling us before?”

 

Seungkwan watched as Minghao- _hyung_ flushed brick-red from mortification but bent his head, parting the hair on his scalp for them to see. It was difficult through the strands, but the more he looked the more he saw what looked like a tattoo there, stark red and black.

 

“Oh my god,” Jiminie- _hyung_ muttered. “Minghao-ah, how were you able to keep that hidden form me? Some prices are too high to pay, sweetheart, you should never have…”

 

“I love Wen Junhui, and I loved him then but didn’t know it, and I would pay it twice over to stand at his side and keep him safe,” Minghao- _hyung_ interrupted with a high, stressed voice. “You don’t get to tell me what my life is worth. You would have done the same. Seungkwan-ah would do the same. Deny it if you can.”

 

Rocked by the confession, Jun- _hyung_ looked as if he wanted to faint, but he reached out with long arms to hold Minghao- _hyung_ very tightly to him, whispering something into his shoulder. Jiminie- _hyung_ looked like he had bitten into a rotten persimmon, but didn’t refute him. Seungkwan… Seungkwan looked sideways at his Hansollie, not surprised to find him looking back. “I would too,” he whispered, and Hansollie smiled at him, squeezing his hand again.

 

“Bring down the wards, Jiminie- _hyung_ ,” Jun- _hyung_ asked as he separated from Minghao- _hyung_. “Please.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ gave a jerky nod of his head and stepped forward, reaching one hand into the wards. His fingers snarled in the energy somehow, and he ripped the wards apart with ease, tearing them into numinous ribbons before they disappeared, taking the illusion of the quiet reflection garden with them.

 

The space beyond the wards looked vastly different. It was a dais nearly twenty metres on each side, sloping upwards towards a single gate set in the middle of it. The dais itself was intricately inlaid with ritual circles, gleaming hoops and whorls of what looked like ivory that pulsed energy along their matrices towards the gate in the middle. When it clicked in his mind that it was bone, not ivory, he nearly got sick. When he recovered long enough to look at the seated figures around the edge, he lost control, and plucked his hand from Hansol-ah’s to empty his stomach behind a large decorative pot.

 

It was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

 

There were at least a hundred figures lining the large space at regular intervals, facing in towards the gate. They looked like skeletons at first glance, but then he looked again and saw their skin, sucked dry and emaciated, so much so they might as well have been skeletons. To a one they were dressed in impeccable, costly robes. To a one they were chanting in a droning, meaningless atonal noise that hovered on the edge of his understanding; it reminded him so much of the way that Hansol-ah had mumbled against him in that cold cell his stomach wanted to rebel again. Each of them were shackled down with long chains that connected to the diagrams, and slowly but surely energy was being sucked out of them. They looked like they had been sucked dry for centuries, but still they faced forward with dead eyes.

 

He could feel souls now, hundreds of them, caged in the bodies, screaming and wailing and slowly being bled dry to keep the gate open. As creepy as the chanting was, it was nothing against that constant, wailing scream for help. His hands shook with the effort not to collapse into a useless heap, even when Hansol-ah lashed an arm around his waist.

 

Ahead of him, Jun- _hyung_ was crying hysterically in Minghao-ah’s arms and he didn’t blame him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he found out his family were monsters.

 

“Oh my fucking god,” Hansol-ah got out. “What is this nightmare?” No one reprimanded him for language.

 

 Minghao- _hyung_ stared at them with burning eyes. “The bodies of my ancestors,” he said bluntly. “Grandmothers, grandfathers… everyone with enough magical power to channel the ritual. When the bodies wear out under the strain, they’re killed and their bones harvested, and their souls confined to one of the younger bodies. Once upon a time my ancestors were the sons and daughters of Heaven. Now we’re glorified charnel houses. They own our souls, Hansol-ah. They’re not exorcists, that’s only a side benefit. The Wen family are necromancers.”

 

It felt like a soundless, silent bomb exploded. Jun- _hyung_ ’s body jerked at Minghao- _hyung_ ’s words and Hansol-ah looked sick. Jiminie- _hyung_ was already picking Muji up and Seungkwan…

 

Seungkwan got _angry_. He could feel it thresh and thrum in him like a nest of angry wasps; his mouth dried and he actually saw red for the first time in his life as his vision narrowed to a thin tunnel. Time slowed down to a trickle of its normal speed. His hands shook with his desire to hit something. Over the last six months it had felt as if his mind was a slave to the new magical necessities of life, and he had constantly worried over Hansol-ah being tied to him. These people had never had a choice. They had likely been suffering for the entirety of his life and beyond. They had been sitting here whilst he had moaned about practice and sore feet, whilst he had lived an easy life.

 

Hansol-ah took his hand again, and his touch was like cool water, reminding him of the Jeju sea – constantly pushing and pulling, cold and warm in turns, but soothing and refreshing, building a firm foundation underneath his feet rather than taking it away like quicksand. In his mind, Hansol’s touch was a roar of ocean waves, the feel of sunlight on his skin remembered from his singing on Seongsan Ilchubong, the warmth of safety.

 

There were people coming towards them, shouting and screaming, and he turned to them with eyes that flamed, only anchored by the hand in his. Opening his mouth, a chord emerged that stopped them in their tracks and circled around the space they were in, throwing up a wall thicker and higher than their wards could ever be.

 

“Seungkwanie,” Hansol-ah’s voice called through his daze. “Get on top of the wave, don’t drown in it.”

 

He bit his lip until it bled and nodded, breathing slowly to try and calm down. Distantly through the thunder in his veins he heard Minghao- _hyung_ murmur to Jun- _hyung_ , short snatches that sounded half-mangled to his ears.

 

“Come on. You can do this. Concentrate and pull it back, Boo.”

 

He wasn’t sure how long he fought the rage down in that strange pinkish half-light, but when he opened his eyes Jun- _hyung_ was still crying, Minghao-ah still looked murderous and Jiminie- _hyung_ … well, Jiminie- _hyung_ had an aura around him, and was grinding his teeth hard enough to be heard steps away. Breathing in and out, he murmured his thanks to Hansol and pulled him along to Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s side. “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to ask why when all these people are suffering. We just need to know what to do.”

 

“I’m going to have to gather up their souls and shut down the gate for good,” Jiminie- _hyung_ murmured, fingers playing with the too-long hems of his sweatshirt, an old, ratty one with Kumamon on the front. “Most of them won’t survive if we don’t get them through a gate and into Jeoseung immediately. Unfortunately…” He bit off his words and cast a look at Seungkwan. “Back when you got Yoongi- _hyung_ into the kitchen, do you remember what you did to stand between worlds like that?”

 

Seungkwan shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. I… let it be done. It wasn’t me, but the lady sleeping in me?”

 

“She gave you a gift. Do you still have it?”

 

“I don’t…”

 

“He does,” Hansol-ah said. “It’s still there keeping things together like it should.” At Seungkwan’s sideways look he grimaced. “I have more practice listening to my own thoughts than you, Boo. You’re always loud and lively, I don’t have that to fall back on. C’mon. You yourself told me I space out too much. I’ve been listening to her.”

 

Seungkwan opened his mouth to ask a million questions before he snapped it shut. “We’ll do it together,” he told Jiminie- _hyung_. “Like dialling a different long-distance number, right? We’ll manage it somehow. Hansolie will show me how.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ nodded. “Sort of. Now we just need the souls to come on out…”

 

From the side, Jun- _hyung_ finally managed to free himself from Minghao’s hug. “I can do that,” he said, wiping at his face.

 

“And I can protect you whilst you’re busy,” Minghao- _hyung_ got in. “If the barrier fails. Otherwise I can help Jiminie- _hyung_ with… with the remains.”

 

“Seungkwanie,” Jiminie- _hyung_ murmured. “Follow Muji. He’ll help you.”

 

Seungkwan bit his lip and looked sideways at Hansol, who smiled and pulled him forward. He wandered afterwards, trying to calm down still, pinching his eyes tightly shut as they entered the area with the dais. The noise from the chanting was tremendous, the scariest thing he had ever heard, but Hansol led him through safely and halted him, then hugged him.

 

“Just relax,” Hansol murmured into his ear. “I know they’re being loud, but so is Seokmin- _hyung_ and you ignore him when he practices, right? Just keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice.”

 

He breathed, fighting not to be sick again. The smell was almost the worst thing, a sickly powdery-sweet smell covering rotting putrescence beneath it. When he opened his eyes, he was staring directly at the swirling energy of the open gate, looking beyond it to what looked like an idealised land, seen through a haze of golden light. There was a sea, rolling and achingly blue, and distantly what looked to be an island. His lips parted, his soul _ached_ to be there, but he stopped himself from stepping through, looking sideways at his anchor.

 

Hansol’s gaze was warm and brown, very gentle, and his mouth quirked as if Seungkwan had somehow passed a test, and it set something in motion in his heart. Seungkwan’s soul relaxed, anchored by the bond between them. “I love you,” he got out through numb lips. “And if I had to do this all over again to get you, I would. Even with all of this. I love you, Chwe Hansol.”

 

Hansol’s smile grew. “That’s good,” he murmured back. “Because I love you too, Boo, as loud and as touchy as you are. Let’s help these people, okay?” He leaned forward to kiss Seungkwan on his forehead, and an incandescent light sprang up between them.


	44. Chapter 44

The light between them turned everything a silvery shade that Seungkwan could see even with closed eyes. His Hansol’s lips were smooth against his skin, soft from the honey balm he liked to use. The warmth sunk into his skin, and something sat up in a place in his mind that he hadn’t known was there before. It tickled at him, glowed with the received heat, and suddenly there was a connection that he had not known to miss. A rope of power stretched from his mind to Hansol’s, braided and strong with the love they had had to rediscover. Like this, he could feel his best friend’s love for him, a patience and caring that defied his ability to describe it. If he could bottle it, sell it as a love song, they’d never need money again.

 

With it came other facts, snippets of information. They had been moving together for a long time now, life after life after life, influenced not only by the need for companionship but of a mind that fit _right_ , that could be the other side of the connection. He finally understand the soul that was his ultimate grandmother too: she had been there in all the worlds, through all the shards of reality, numerous ways of looking into this tiny place she had been trapped in, and she had only come close to release twice in her life: this universe, and the one that he had left to come back to this one.

 

The one in which that place’s Seungkwan found his Hansol again, and they were indeed living very happily together.

 

His cheeks sparkled with tears, but he understood the task that Jiminie- _hyung_ asked of him now. Pulling away from Hansol, though keeping their hands linked, he lifted a hand to point at the gate they had entered through, the one that had been keeping the illusion steady. Next to him, step in step, sharing power equally, Hansol cleansed it so that he could construct a gate in it. It grew into being like a night-blooming flower, opening up onto a land that was dark and quiet, with a tall man standing as if waiting for them.

 

The man looked past him to Jiminie- _hyung_ , lips pressing together. “We don’t have much time,” his voice travelled through, deep and quiet and arrogant all in one.

 

Seungkwan looked from him to his _hyungdeul_ , and it was the saddest thing he had ever seen. Jun- _hyung_ glowed with a pale, dusty kind of light as he called and called and called, and slowly but surely the souls started flocking to him. Some were so tattered they were barely recognisable as people. Others were firm and strong still, but all of them shared a single characteristic: on their foreheads, graven in with lines of power, pulsing sigils sat, the marks that chained them to the Wen family’s bidding.

 

He saw Jiminie- _hyung_ speak to them in a language he almost understood, saw how the sigils faded away so that they could cross the barriers between life and death safely. He saw Minghao- _hyung_ cry as he never had before, easing the living bodies back from the bones of their ancestors that pierced their flesh. Some fell to dust as he touched them, some still wanted to move on their own.

 

He felt the souls close in on him, and he wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t terrifying or scary, it was horrifying instead, outraging him on some level of basic decency. He felt his being stretched as they used the gate that was his soul, escaping into the hands of the man beyond.

 

He felt Hansol press his hand, steady him as they came and came and came, until a hundred, then easily over two thousand souls escaped.

 

 _Gatekeeper,_ someone whispered in his mind, love thick in their voice. _My little Seungkwanie. I’m so proud of you both. Well done, my dearest grandson, both you and your partner. Find my robe, find it so that all of this can end._

Seungkwan’s lips trembled with a smile, one that disappeared as he watched Minghao- _hyung_ straighten up to face a soul still strong with power, but disfigured with sigils that crossed her entire body.

 

“Jiě jie,” Minghao- _hyung_ whispered.

 

At his side Jun- _hyung_ straightened, face wet with tears, but he didn’t shy away from the look of loathing the shade gave him. “No more service,” he whispered. “No more service ever again. Go free, and may the path be kind to you. No more, I promise.”

 

She didn’t say anything, just looked at Minghao- _hyung_ and reached a hand to rest it on his head for a moment. She floated past then, into Seungkwan’s mind and through, until they were left with an empty platform. The gate behind them closed, though the man shot Jiminie- _hyung_ a ‘we’ll talk later’ look before it did so.

 

He sagged as the power left him, and had to turn to catch Hansol. They stumbled off the platform towards the barrier he had erected earlier, until they were merely four boys huddling together with their _hyung_ left on the platform.

 

One moment there was a young man with corn-silk hair in a ratty Kumamon sweatshirt. In the next blinding light exploded as a bolt of energy struck the platform, scouring it clean of bone and metal and blood and living bodies. Everything went up in divine flames; bones burnt, metals melted, and the stone of the platform sizzled away, until nothing was left but clean earth. At the last, the gate went up in a sour puff of smoke, lit from within as if it tried to contain a sun and failed.

 

Seungkwan’s mouth turned dry with the look on Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s face as he turned to look at them. His eyes were a gold fading into tawny bronze, like liquid metal, and his jaw was still tense with the altercation.

 

“It’s gone now, Jun-ah,” he said stoically. “Thank you for coming to me with this, even if it’s going to put you at odds with your family. They will have to do their politicking on their own now, not on the back of stolen power. Minghao-ah, I used the bond to cleanse the souls of your living family members as well. Yours… yours I left alone.”

 

“What?” Jun- _hyung_ burst out. “No…”

 

Minghao interrupted. “Thank you for listening to my wishes, Jiminie- _hyung_. I’ll explain to Jun- _hyung_.” He reached out sideways to squeeze his friend’s hand once, then twice. “I’ll explain to everyone. I…” He fell silent as Jiminie- _hyung_ tilted his head towards the side as if he were listening to something. “ _Hyung_?”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s signature smile had disappeared entirely. “Yoongi- _hyung_ is calling,” he muttered. “There’s been an attack in Seoul. We have to get back.” Grimacing, he reached out for their hands. The barrier around them fell, and they were there long enough to see surprised faces before they made for that eternal, endless shifting space of travel again.

 

============================================

 

Mingyu lay uncomfortably on his side, staring up at the sky through ringing haloes of power. His mind felt really distant, as if it was trying to encompass something that it couldn’t quite stretch to accept. He couldn’t see the moon, couldn’t even see the stars. It was as if the sky was lonely and dark, shut away from him by the oscillating haloes coming off the gate. The spear was still in his gut at an angle up to his heart, sucking hungrily at him as the woman leant down to sketch a complicated array of symbols in his blood. It made the gate behind him whine and ring and slowly yawn open.

 

He managed to shift his head enough to see. Oddly there wasn’t any pain, not that he entertained any thoughts about being mortally wounded. He could see it thrum slightly from his weakening heartbeat. It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing really seemed to matter. He stared at the army of ghosts as they came through, led by a woman of icy mien and impeccable bearing. He couldn’t get an accurate count, mind sluggish, but they seemed more than a handful.

 

“Well done, Yè,” she said in a language that made slight sense to his fading ears. “I should have known you would be the one to get the task complete.” She stepped aside and let the man behind her, the only living being in the middle of the sea of ghosts, come forward. Mingyu couldn’t see him very well, but he wore what looked like a veil in any case, ornate yellow and white silk stitched with characters he could not read.

 

“Force the gate open wider,” he said in a quiet, aspirated voice. “We do not have much time. He is almost on us.”

 

“The sacrifice won’t last then,” the woman that had wielded the spear warned him.

 

Mingyu didn’t rate a sideways look from the man. He was staring solely forward from what he could see.

 

“Bleed him dry,” the man’s quiet voice said, and she reached over to grab the spear.

 

As much as he hadn’t felt much pain, the way she squished the spear down and angled it straight into his heart broke Mingyu. He opened his mouth to scream and scream, night ringing with the awful sound as if it could not escape either. His mind went bright, then dull red, and the pain began.

 

 

===============================================

 

Wonwoo frowned down at the tome he had open, leaning over it as he tried to decipher the faded letterwork. If there was one thing he had learnt about magical books over the past few months, it was that sometimes they were living personalities, and didn’t give up their secrets so easily to digital replication. This one seemed particularly ornery, and he didn’t have Namjoon- _hyung_ ’s talent of rebuking them yet. Gods, it would be so much _easier_ if Namjoon- _hyung_ had been here. Instead, he was halfway on the other side of the world again with Jin- _hyung_ , attending some kind of conference with Sehunie. He had permission to be here, though the book certainly acted as if it didn’t know that.

 

Between one eye-blink and the next, it felt as if the world shifted on its axis. He felt wards go up, higher and more intricate and stretching into a dimension he didn’t quite understand yet. His mind, still very fragile and young, shuddered away from the touch, but in the next moment it didn’t matter. He heard the scream that rocked around Bukhansan, loud beyond what it should be, and he knew it. He _knew_.

 

Somehow he found himself running with the guards that oozed from places he didn’t even know had guards. The sky above them was a sullen, angry, dusty red as the energy in the dimensional dome interfered with the moon’s light. The scream came again and his feet flew, running on instinct more than anything else. There was so much confusion that he managed to get out from the crowd and for once in his life, he let emotion lead him onwards, concentrating on instinct, not logic and knowledge. A guard made to grab at him, but in his haste he did something, dropped him right where he stood, and escaped into a rapidly-clearing set of courtyards.

 

Everyone was rushing away from one of the higher ones, escorted by guards and dispersing into the forests around Bukhansan. By the time he clattered up the steps to see what was really happening he was alone, and not prepared for what he would see.

 

A woman had a spear through Mingyu, was wiggling it back and forth as the ghost-feather woman and a man watched in silence, both uncaring.

 

 _What will you do to save him?_ The voice came to him with the whisper of earthquakes inherent in it, the shimmering thunder of leaves in the wind played loudly, the slowly stretching groan of trees growing.

_Anything._ He wasn’t sure where the voice came from, but seeing Mingyu there, bleeding out, made him realise how much time he had wasted not talking, not opening up, not loving.

 

_That is a very dangerous thing to say, Jeon Wonwoo. Why?_

He searched his heart. Mingyu haunted each of his memories, always there at least in the background, treating his need for calm and silence respectfully if not stoically. He liked looking up at the boy, even liked the fact that he was ever so slightly taller, loving and handsome and warm. Why hadn’t he realised before how warm? Why did it take seeing Mingyu die to realise that he cared perhaps too much?

 

 _Because I’ve seen him without seeing for too long. Because my heart won’t be able to withstand him being gone. Because he is my very dear person, and I’ll be_ damned _before I lose him._

The world around him sighed, latching onto that willingness and tore open the floodgates of his soul, pouring power into him that he had never dreamt of. No-one ever thought about the land, not with so many powerful individuals, but it lacked its guardian just now, and found in him an unexpected champion.

 

Anger filled every inch of him, flushed away thought and reason, and the air around his fists ignited with a crack-boom of energy as Bukhansan started fading out of the world’s reach. The _sansim_ lent it to him not because the sansim _liked_ him, but because everyone else was doing the sensible thing and running away. They poured it into him without stint, until he could feel it sift off his skin, illuminate the path of his spine with gleaming force.

 

“Let go of him,” he growled in a voice like thunder and dark, angry forests, with the energy of the local gods around him like a cloak. “Let go of him _now._ ”

 

==============================================

 

“Rea-harabeoji,” Tae- _hyung_ got out with a voice thinned down by dread and frustrated love and hurt, and his arms tightened around the baby in his arms. Jungkookie- _hyung_ moved like lightning to step between them, trying to angle his body so that Chan could get in behind it as well. Chan didn’t see it, didn’t see the way the t engu-san moved as well, unsheathing a sword as long as his arm in response to the ghost. Chan couldn’t see through the flicker-flame of whatever was happening to him, and he felt roilingly nauseous, the worst he had ever felt in his life before.

 

He heard Mingyu- _hyung_ ’s scream Doppler in the air before wards slammed up. The metaphysical boom from that echoed his body as he fell to the ground, body creeping and twisting and creeling in pain. He vaguely sensed the _hyungdeul_ shouting something at him, saw the ghost-man’s feet turn around to face his way, and felt his head rear as his clothes tore down the back. His body wanted to change, to _become_ , but it didn’t know what to do, and it was afraid of everyone, like a disobedient child that didn’t know what to do.

 

Through dimming eyes he saw the baby stare at him, pudgy hands reaching out with wonder, and he heard a second awful scream.

 

His _hyung_ needed him. Mingyu- _hyung_ needed him, he had been training so hard to be able to protect everyone, to protect _her_ and here he was, just another warm body everyone had to protect.

 

There were more bodies in the rooms now, with his _hyungdeul_ pressing in from everywhere as the screaming brought them to high alert. Seungcheol- _hyung_ was trying to get to him, and Jihoonie- _hyung_ stormed in looking like the wrath of god, and he could hear his bones snap-snap-snap as something tried to claw out of him.

 

 _No,_ he thought faintly, clinging to the tiny little hope in his heart. _No. I want to help them, I want to_ protect…

Something snarled into the room, brushed away the ghost-man that no one was able to touch. Someone knelt down in front of him, stretched out arms that smelled like lilies and babypowder and Soomi. He knew the feel of those arms, had felt it around him once before, and with a snap, the ravine in his heart mended, fused back together as if it had never been. They were just the merest current of energy, but he _knew_ them, and knew the person behind them even if she wasn’t really there, just her energy.

 

They brought his body enough time to switch over, to slip into the shape that had been waiting to come out since February. A small rack of antlers, golden, tossed in the light first, and four legs kicked before he managed to stand. His hide was made of scales, just like Namjoonie- _hyung_ ’s, but tinted instead, rippling all the shades of a peacock’s tail. His belly felt warm, covered in a layer of shaggy fur instead of scales. He opened his mouth to say something, and the sound of bells came out instead, faint and lovely. His awareness expanded exponentially, from the currents of energy caressing against his hide, to the furious wrath of the moonlight through the window, and Yoongi- _hyung_ riding on it.

 

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ got out with surprise thickly colouring his voice. “Oh my god, Channie, my baby, what did they do to you?”

 

“We didn't do anything,” the ghost-man said as, in the corner behind him, the tengu-san was on his knees praying, “Lee Chan is finally embracing his whole heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. I didn't expect the chapter to be this stubborn! It took forever, I'm so sorry. 
>   2. The man on the other side of the gate is Sobyeol, Jimin's adopted 'uncle' and currently the one in charge of Jeoseung. 
>   3. Jun does the right thing despite his family depending on the Xu family's stolen power for their place in society. 
>   4. The woman's name is 夜, for those of you that might want to know, which sometimes means 'night'. 
>   5. The colour of the man's veil is important: yellow to denote that he's descended from a royal lineage, and white to denote that he's in mourning. 
>   6. Wonwoo finally wakes up to what he is about to lose, and decides that he's not having any of that shit. 
>   7. The night's been carefully picked: with the queen and Hobi out of the palace, and Namjoon and Jin back in Sweden, it was the best opportunity in months to stage a coup. 
>   8. And the last of the reveals, we finally get to see what kind of a supernatural animal Channie is. Mythological stories often link [girin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qilin) to the western unicorn, but they're not that. The picture that I based him on was originally inspired by [this](https://mylenevilleneuve.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/kirin.jpg) image. 
> 



	45. Chapter 45

Mingyu was absolutely positive that having the woman’s spear wiggled into his heart was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. It felt stupid to think it as he lay there dying, but oddly it was the only thing his mind wanted to focus on. The fact that he would never be able to tell Wonwoo how much he loved him, and not as a friend. It felt entirely unfair; even as the spear drank the last of his blood and he felt his spirit lift from his body, it was the only thing that drummed through him.

 

He sat up, body free from pain, and it felt as if something tugged him to the gate. Thought began to fade as he felt the moonlight for what it was in the first place: a celestial ble _ssi_ ng, not just the reflection of the sun’s light off a dead hunk of rock. That fleeting pang of misery let go of his spirit with a ping of effort, and he ignored the sad look on the others’ faces as he began to ascend, moving towards the light that would let him get to whatever came after death. The thunder and lightning of the mortal world faded quickly like a bad dream, and he breathed out all regrets…

 

A snap, a _snarl_ , and a hand that lashed around his spirit’s wrist like a fetter. It felt tiny and rough and absolutely implacable, and when he looked around to see what held him back he wanted to cry with the sudden reflux of mortal feeling. A girl stood there, with long hair skinning down to her knees, face luminous and beautiful under the moon. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and she was still unhealthily thin, but she held his spirit like she was an anchor that could hold a world.

 

“Kim Mingyu- _ssi_ ,” the girl said quietly and clearly, “if I let you go now, he will _never_ forgive me.”

 

She plucked him closer to her by that small, skinny hand, even though he was sure a toddler could spit over her on tip-toes. As she yanked him closer, her other hand flickered into a mudra before she slammed it onto his chest. The impact rang like a gong, resonating through his being, and he coughed, _coughed_ even though he had no lungs, and looked down to see an intricate seal on his chest. The lines and whorls of it shone pure gold, before it reached into his chest and locked around something that might have been a knot in his soul.

 

“Who are you?” he managed to get out. “Why are you doing this?”

 

She blinked up at him, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I forgot I hadn’t spoken to you before. My name is Yue, Kim Mingyu- _ssi_. As to why?” She let his wrist go, but not before turning him gently around and pointing. “Because I have used all the power that I may, sealing you in here, but there is still someone fighting for you. Because… because…” She struggled.

 

Mingyu understood with a clarity he hadn’t had before. “Because as long as we’re fighting for our loved ones, there is still hope?” He could see Wonwoo now, surrounded by what looked like hundreds of ghosts, but fighting like a madman with energies he didn’t know he could wield. It was artless and clumsy and effective, and the look of grief on his loved one’s face made him want to cry again.

 

“Yes,” she said quietly, and then “Yes,” a bit more softly. Then, “I have no more that I can help you with, Kim Mingyu- _ssi_ ,” she said. “I have someone I need to protect outside, but you will be safe here until your elders arrive. All I can offer is one last riddle – the gate is locked into being by _your_ blood, perhaps you can try to close it from this side.”

 

He watched as she disappeared, fading out of being like smoke, and cast a last look at Wonwoo’s furious face before he turned to the spirits clustering around the gate, some afraid and modern, and some fierce-eyed in ancient costly robes. He breathed in, set his jaw and walked towards them, determined to do what he might.

 

==========================================

 

Chan felt as if his entire being rung with magic. It clustered so thickly in him that it felt as if he had it running in his veins instead of blood. He could see everyone’s auras still, an infinite variation of colours from the baby’s bright, shining white to Rea- _harabeonim_ ’s dull charcoal black – that man had so many sins on his soul it was nauseating to stand so close to him, but there was something… there was _something_ …

 

With a start Chan realised that he could see through the sins to the soul underneath, the beautiful luminous thing it had been before, hard and implacable as a diamond, but filled with love. The man was _atoning_ , had accepted that he had sinned, and was trying to be better. He had come here to help, and he wasn’t about to spit on any help, not when the situation had this much crazy in it. He lifted his head, almost got the rack of antlers fouled in one of the decorative lamps, and backed up clumsily, more like a mountain goat would jump than anything else.

 

On the one hand his body felt wonderful, as if he finally realised what he wanted to be and was strong enough to do it. On the other hand, it had four legs, he could see auras and he was _certain_ one back hoof was trembling out the rhythm of Adore U from sheer nervousness.

 

He opened his mouth, ducked when that glissando of bells emerged again, and had a moment before Jungkookie- _hyung_ stepped up to place his large hands on his elongated face.

 

“Close your eyes and speak slowly,” his _hyung_ advised. “Akihito-san, please stop praying. It’s not helping anything.”

 

“I phoned all our panic numbers,” Seungcheol- _hyung_ got out as he stepped forward, brow knit from worry. “IS that a ghost? Channie? What’s going on?” His head jerked up as thunder hit the patio outside, and he swore from the shock. “Hello? Anyone? Please explain?”

 

“It’s not…” the ghost began, but stammered to silence as a sooty cloud formed in the room, bringing with it the scent of baby powder and dark places and blood. It barely coalesced enough to form arms, but those arms reached out to take Soomi from Tae _hyung_ - _hyung_ , covering her in a whirl of black as it retreated to a corner of the room and whisked out of being there.

 

“…what the hell?” Jeonghan- _hyung_ asked. “Someone start explaining!”

 

 _Yue,_ Chan’s mind breathed even as he inhaled deeply to fill his nose with the scent that lingered there. _I get it now. I really do get it. Thank you._ Out loud, and slowly, he began. “There’s an attack on the palace, _hyung_.”

 

“It’s the Woman in White,” Rea- _harabeonim_ said. “I came to warn you that she somehow managed to open a gate to the Keep, and to protect my family. I did not expect that she’d get the wards to bend to her will that quickly, but given what she has it’s not impo _ssi_ ble. Where are the other protectors of this place, _sonja_?”

 

“ _Eomeoni_ is on her way here,” Tae got out and closed his eyes to concentrate. “She’ll be here in a few. Yoongi- _hyung_ and Hobi- _hyung_ went to meet Jiminie- _hyung_. _Harabeoji_ , why are you _here?_ ”

 

The ghost paused, elfin features softening from the diamond-hard expre _ssi_ on his face had, until he looked young enough to be his grandson’s twin. “To protect my family,” he repeated softly. “You, and your mother, and your little sister… and your grandmother. I didn’t expect a naga protector though; that was good thinking, Tae. They’re fanatically loyal. Even my father was never able to break them. We’ll need the rest to get inside the wards, especially if it’s being powered by a blood ritual.”

 

“Wait,” Jungkook- _hyung_ got out. “Go back. Tae’s grandmother is _here_? I thought she was dead!”

 

“Reincarnation,” Rea- _ssi_ murmured. “She wanted to come back and make her amends to Park Jimin and his family.” He threw a stolid look at the shell-shocked members of SEVENTEEN, eyes lingering on Seokmin- _hyung_ for a moment before looking away. “She doesn’t know who she is,” he said softly. “The person who she is now doesn’t remember anything. Please don’t treat her differently because of this.”

 

“I…” Tae- _hyung_ got out, but broke off as a very angry, very short man stormed in from the balcony with lightning literally dancing in his eyes and a snarl on his flower-face. Behind him, a _chollima_ already changing from four legs to two, though he boggled as he saw Chan.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jihoon- _hyung_ demanded, cheeks white with anger, enough that scales shone through as he started losing his grip on his human form. “I go for one fucking date and some fucking stupid madman has to ruin the show! I was on the edge of winning the goddamn biggest Kumamon I have ever seen for Yoongi- _hyung_ ’s birthday! It was twice my fucking size! Who the shit ordered the Apocalypse? Point me at them! I’ll fucking fight them!”

 

“Language!” Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ scolded in tandem.

 

Chan’s new ears perfectly heard the ‘Oh hell, he’s going to Hulk out’ Seungcheol- _hyung_ muttered to Seokmin- _hyung_. ‘I knew all those superhero movies were going to bite us in the ass one day.’ He wanted to laugh despite the situation, but whenever he opened his mouth that bell-like sound emerged, until he choked, coughed and his world promptly turned inside-out, dumping him back as an exhausted human boy, entirely naked, but in posse _ssi_ on of human vocal chords again.

 

“I don’t care about my language! Language and go and…” Jihoon snarled above the sound of thunder rumbling.

 

“Jihoonie,” Soonyoung- _hyung_ muttered. “Calm down, tiger.” He scooted sideways, hooking the gym bag with one foot before flinging it into Chan’s direction with his foot. Their maknae, blushing like mad, scrambled for it and quickly started dre _ssi_ ng again.

 

Somehow it worked, though Chan privately thought it had as much to do with Jungkook’s _look_ at Jihoon as his boyfriend’s calm request. Seconds later, when not only Jiminie- _hyung_ , but their missing members showed up, with the queen, Yoongi- _hyung_ and Hobi- _hyung_ arriving seconds later, the room was almost too crowded.

 

The queen turned white when she saw her father, then stumbled forward to go and hug Tae _hyung_ instead, clinging to her son as if she was afraid Rea- _ssi_ would try to kill him again. Off to one side, Chan saw Hansol- _hyung_ and Seungkwan- _hyung_ pressed together, with Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ just behind them. All four had nightmares in their eyes; even in this form he could feel the shape of their souls now, though it hurt to do it past all the _hyungdeul_ , who to a one had souls of such shining magnitude it felt like weights dragging on his perception.

 

“Let’s go,” the queen said tightly. “Before they decide to paint Bukhansan red with blood. “Where’s Soomi?”

 

“She’s with Yue- _ssi_ , _Eomeoni_ ,” Tae- _hyung_ said. “The kids will be safe here, we can bring up the wards on this building…”

 

Seungcheol- _hyung_ cleared his throat, staring Jeonghan down. “We’re going with you,” he said quietly. Behind him, Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ looked at each other before they stood to brace him, one on each side. Seungcheol- _hyung_ looked faintly glad for their support, but stared Jiminie- _hyung_ down when he started to say something. “We are going. Our brothers are in there, waiting for us to rescue them. Seventeen?”

 

“Fighting!!” the members roared, even the ones that had just showed up.

 

“Besides,” Seungkwan got out moments later. “You’ll need our help with the gate after that stunt Jiminie- _hyung_ pulled with the divine fire. We nearly got lost in the ocean on our way back. He needs rest.”

 

“For family,” Jun- _hyung_ said, sounding as if he swallowed broken glass to do so.

 

“Wakanda Forever,” Jihoon- _hyung_ said with savage relish, as if that decided things.

 

On the whole, Chan thought, it really did. “Wakanda Forever!” he yelled, and the roar of eleven very healthy boys filled the room again.

 

===============================================

 

Wonwoo felt the park’s power burn through him as he spun and slashed, beating spirits away from him with fire and magic and sheer rage. The woman had long since kicked Mingyu-ah’s corpse off her spear, and was watching him with some curiosity, as if she was mentally grading his performance. It was woeful, but he didn’t care. He might not have been a trained martial artist, but his rage was so towering, so volcanically intense, that he screamed and fought like a berserker to keep them from the steps leading down to the rest of the palace. Still, there were so many...

 

 _More_ , he demanded from the spirit of the land. _More, give me more!_

 

 _There is a price,_ the spirit warned. _Mortal forms can’t carry such power for long, young champion. You are close to the line…_

_Give it to me!_ Wonwoo screamed in his mind. _Mingyu-ah is gone, I’m the only one here and I don’t care! I don’t care without him! Give it to me!_

 

Power filled his mind like a supernova, nearly boiling his eyes and flash-frying his brain. The river that the stream of energy had been before turned into a raging waterfall, crashing over him and crushing any barriers or mortal limits he might have had. He gasped, sensing the power filling him like a sun, and waded forward with renewed vigour, resolved to last until he had killed every one of the bastards that had killed his love. Beneath him, Bukhansan shook and whined as the land answered Jeon Wonwoo's call and the trees started to come to life, marching up towards the palace as rock golems formed on the slopes. None of them paid attention to the fleeing courtiers' screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Mingyu dies. It doesn't quite take. 
>   2. Yue, by the fact of what she is, spends the majority of her power buying Mingyu a chance because he is precious to Lee Chan. 
>   3. What with it being the first time he's changed, Chan sucks at controlling his body. Great timing... 
>   4. Rea finally steps up to the grandfather role and comes back to protect his family. 
>   5. The guys find out that Tae's grandmother is on her second (third) life. 
>   6. Lee Jihoon shows why power in small packages is a dangerous thing. 
>   7. Everyone is together again! Well, almost. Still, this much power in one room is dangerous... 
>   8. Everyone decides that it's time to go get their place back. 
>   9. Wakanda Forever! 
>   10. In this story, very much like his mentor Kim Namjoon, it takes a lot to make Wonwoo angry, but when he's angry, it's spectacular, like a volcano blowing up in your face. 
> 



	46. Chapter 46

There was music playing, dancing in the room like dust motes in sunlight. She could not understand the language, but it pulled at her, whispered and spoke to her. It was the kind of music that her mother had wanted her to perform. It was the kind of music that sliced down her nerves like fire. It felt malicious almost, as if the person that put it on knew how much she disliked it and yet did it anyway.

 

Sora knew she was a step or two away from going mad. The last year had sapped her reserves of fortitude to the dregs of her being, and this was the last straw.

 

She was dressed in something long and flowing, in a colour that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be pink or grey. It covered her from neck to ankles and beyond, fluttering in the invisible wind of the void she floated in. At first she had kept her eyes closed, but that had only worked so long – she had never liked the dark, had never liked looking out at the stars and seeing the lonely void around them. She had tried screaming, but there was no sound – not that it stopped her. No matter how she looked, it was just the endless firmament full of stars above her. No sun, no moon. Just stars, cold and distant and diamond-hard in their perfection.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. In her mind she had gone through every pop song she knew, every jazz hit, every piece of hip-hop. She had danced to all the bands in her mind, and now she stared at the stars and didn’t know what to do anymore. There was just the awful music playing and the cruel, hard, pinprick glitter above her.

 

Hours – days? It felt like a second stretched out into a week.

 

At the last, forced by the stars, she looked deep inside herself for surcease, for a little variation. Down, down into the depths that she had not talked to Hobi-oppa about. The place where her instructor’s switch hit her stomach over and over, where she stood on the edge of cliff and looked down at the stars. The dreams of swimming through space, fat as a beached whale. Of the sun and the moon sneering at her, infinite in their superiority.

 

It was as if she stared down at a pool of water and saw ice crackle over it. She floated on that pool like a singular flower, knowing it would give in underneath her at any moment and drown her in its depths.

 

Sound returned to her slowly, as if someone unveiled her ears, though the music didn’t stop.

 

“I think she’s ready now, don’t you?” a smooth female voice asked.

 

Something swung her around, held her right side up. She was in a dark, angry forest, looking at a gate shaped like a simple arch, with the most intricate carvings she had ever seen. Foxes cavorted over it with lanterns in their mouths.

 

She opened her mouth to scream.

 

Between one moment and the next her location changed. Someone was carrying her in their arms. She could tell from the slip and slide of material against her skin that she was already in that strange dress, but the sky wasn’t stars anymore. It was between pink and red, the colour of blood smeared thin, and there were drifts of feathers around her. They tumbled like raven clouds every time the person carrying her moved, landing on her body like foul little kisses. From the way her head lolled she could see tiny little corpses, birds nailed to the walls and floor and ceiling, almost covering the pristine architecture beneath it.

 

The music made the feathers and motes of dust dance thick in the air as the man carried her to a large room. There was blood everywhere in the room, and when they spun her into the air she remained stuck there, floating forward to hang in the middle of a large open window. It was tremendously huge and round, but she was suspended in its oculus like she was underwater, hair floating serenely on unseen currents.

 

“I think she’s ready now, don’t you?” a smooth female voice asked.

 

 _No_ , the Sora inside her chanted. _No no no no no I’m not ready I’m not ready I’m not…_

 

Blink.

 

Blink-blink.

 

A smile filled with sunlight on a sharp face. The smell of an angel’s cologne. The touch of her prince’s hand as he danced opposite her.

 

The sunlight and the moonlight leaving her as she was thrown into a black void. Her screams of rage, of anger, of the utmost fear. Above it all the music that spun and played and set the march of her existence. The pain in her belly as she was hit over and over again, as she lost child after child. The raw, screaming pain every time she looked up at the sky at the rivers of stars, knowing what lay beyond them was forever out of her reach.

 

“I think she’s ready now, don’t you?” a smooth female voice asked.

 

Blink.

 

Blink-blink.

 

A set of gentle eyes looking at her. She managed to fight her eyes open to look at them. Night-dark, with one eyelid just a little bit lazier than the other. A wonderful smile. The way his eyes disappeared when he smiled or laughed. He was saying something to her, head tilted in her memory, smiling so gently.

 

“I think she’s ready now, don’t you?” a smooth female voice asked.

 

The ice beneath her feet cracked and she fell from grace straight into the abyss. The sound of the music playing swelled around her and she finally recognised it. Sumi Jo’s impeccable rendition of ‘Ave Maria’ by Schubert followed her into the depths, flaying her soul open again.

 

============================================

 

Seokmin roared his approval as the others did, but couldn’t look away from Tae- _hyung_ ’s grandfather. The man was looking at him again, intent and impassively – if one went by his expression at least. His eyes told a different story, and Seokmin wondered why a man hated him that he had never met in his life. That hatred put them aside in a different dimension almost, and his feet stuck to the floor as the others trooped out. His mouth opened and shut without song coming out, without words, without even a grunt.

 

He heard them walking down the corridor to the lift, and still the man stared at him with that implacable, frustrated hatred in his eyes.

 

“You don’t even realise it, do you?” the man asked him in his strangely-accented Korean. He slowly moved forward and reached into thin air, hand returning with a huge pearl sitting on it. It shone a bright, radiant light as pure as a star, as the moonlight on a clear night.

 

Seulgi-noona, who had been quiet in a corner until now, made a sound in her throat that wasn’t human, a coughing, grating noise of warning.

 

“Listen,” the man urged as he closed his fingers around the huge pearl. “Listen.”

 

Seokmin’s eyes darted around, trying to find anything that would qualify as distraction from the sight. He barely caught the clock: 21:29. Frantic, he watched the last few seconds tick off. As the display changed, the man closed his fingers over the pearl completely and crushed it.

 

The light changed from twilight to black; the moon came up full and round, totally out of phase, and as red as light seen through a smear of blood. It brought with it the sound of singing, pure and high and beautiful. He’d know that voice anywhere: Choi Sora. He didn’t recognise the song, but it was beautiful, filled with so much regret that his throat closed and he swallowed, tears springing to life in his eyes.

 

It was beautiful and yet it was wrong. She sounded like a caged bird singing for an audience, not the young woman he had come to know.

 

“Where is she?” he asked of the man, only slightly aware that Seulgi-noona was wandering closer, still making that odd inhuman noise in her throat.

 

The man smiled at him, totally without mirth or joy. “Tell me,” he said with a voice deep and scratchy with despair. He stepped towards the balcony and pulled the curtain back to reveal the moon, fat and full out of cycle, as if they had suddenly moved the world closer to the Earth. It was an unsettling colour, somewhere between pink and orange and crimson, like blood smeared across Creation. “How far would _you_ walk for love?”

 

“Don’t force the boy to walk your road, Betrayer,” Seulgi-noona got out, sounding as if there was something wrong with her mouth and throat.

 

The man glanced at her. “It is his choice to walk on it or not,” he said impassively. “I will not open the gateway for anyone less, even if it is a cursed road.”

 

“But he won’t walk alone,” a voice said from the doorway.

 

Seokmin looked around to see Hobi- _hyung_ ’s face, thin-lipped and determined. He wandered closer until he stood on Seokmin’s other side.

 

The man gave a thin smile and a nod. “My family awaits,” he murmured, and held out his hand again. In it appeared a sword, thin as moonlight and as fragile-looking, but the cold it emanated was palpable, doubly so when he handed it to Seokmin.

 

“Ice,” he said. “For deaths and endings. May the suns and moons watch over you on the road.” With that, still smiling that hate-filled smile, he disappeared, leaving Seokmin to stare at the path in the sky.

 

“The Land of Crows,” Hobi- _hyung_ said. “If you want.”

 

Lee Seokmin, gritting his jaw, took a tight hold of the sword’s hilt and stepped forward onto the moonlight in search of the song’s origin, never looking back. Behind him, a woman that changed into a massive _shisa_ mid-stride, and a _chollima_ the colour of bright sunlight.

 

==================================================

 

Seungkwan knew something was wrong when Jiminie- _hyung_ started crying mid-step. He watched the way Yoongi- _hyung_ wrapped his arm around his fiance’s waist to support him, saw the way his Hansol’s eyes flickered as if they saw a different reality than everyone else. In them, endlessly falling, stars streaked to their death, like trails of fire through costly ink. He looked around, then up, and saw what looked like a yellow meteor streaking upwards. As he watched, it turned into a giant starburst phoenix, glimmering briefly, then disappearing in the night sky against the blood moon.

 

Swallowing, he turned to walk across the street to the complex, knowing that his _hyung_ had his own path to walk. “Will he be fine?” he asked Hansol, taking strength from the large hand in his.

 

“I don’t know,” Hansol whispered. “I can’t see his path.”

 

Seungkwan swallowed again and nodded, stepping into the complex proper.

 

“…but you did this before?” he heard Kookie- _hyung_ say. “It was totally disconnected and you found it.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jiminie- _hyung_ said wearily. “It’s not that it’s missing, Kookie, it’s that it’s warded, sealed with blood. We might be the gatekeepers of this sphere, but there are certain things that are still beyond us. If there was anyone at all on the inside that I could connect to...”

 

Seungkwan nearly tripped over his own feet. Something was singing to him, bright and shining. Without noticing, he wandered off to the side, into the temple towards the shining thing that lured him, hand slipping out of Hansol’s. His footsteps sounded oddly loud as he entered, kicking his shoes off through sheer force of habit before he entered the main sanctuary. There, shimmering like an explosion of nacre and light, he saw an open portal, and through it a sea that gently clasped an island in the cusp of its palms, waves calm under the ever-light sunshine.

 

He reached his hand out to it, felt the energy of it sift and explode outwards as the gate opened. Very distantly he could hear seagulls and the sound of roaring waves crashing against a tuff cone.

 

“Seungkwan,” a voice said distantly to him. “What are you looking at?”

 

“Heaven,” Boo Seungkwan from Jeju-do said wonderingly. “I’m looking at Heaven. It looks just like Jeju-do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The music that's playing that Sora's hearing is Sumi Jo singing [Ave Maria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqoP8rkNIsY&ab_channel=smoothiw). Like Jimin experiencing bad or life-changing moments on the edge of the sea, so she experiences them around classical music/opera. 
>   2. There's a quote from Guy Gavriel Kay in here somewhere. I wish I could write like him. 
>   3. Jimin once had a vision very similar to Sora's. 
>   4. Seokmin, Seulgi and Hobi to the rescue! 
>   5. Rea's reference to the suns and the moons isn't a typo. He hails from a time where there were two suns and two moons, until one pair was shot down. 
>   6. Seungkwan's idea of heaven is apparently an idealised Jeju-do. 
> 



	47. Chapter 47

Once upon a time Boo Seungkwan had not believed in heaven. His family was only vaguely religious, and whatever leanings he might have had died a speedy death during his training period. Joshua- _hyung_ was the only one that still made an effort to think about church. Still, it had a mythic quality to it, as if humanity needed to believe in something bigger than themselves. It was a terrible feeling to see the concrete proof of belief, as if that made it cheaper somehow. Believing in a higher power and seeing them on a regular basis wasn’t the same thing at all. Believing in Heaven seemed somehow shabby against actually seeing it.

 

Heaven didn’t have Hansol in it, or his mom, or his sisters, or his _hyungdeul_. Heaven didn’t have an opportunity for him to grow up and threaten to beat Sofia’s future boyfriends with a stick. Heaven might look like an upgraded copy of Jeju-do, but would it have the same smell to it? The same beaches and pebbled paths? It wouldn’t have his father’s business on it, or his mother making marinated crab, or the feel of dawn on his face as he stood on Seongsan Ilchubong, singing to welcome the New Year.

 

Heaven did not have the possibility to adopt fifteen million dogs and three kids with Hansol – not that it was possible here, but that was another thing that Heaven didn’t really have. Dreams. In a place of such overwhelming power, how could anyone dream?

 

As if it responded to his thoughts, the portal cleared and a woman smiled at him. Her face was too bright to say whether she was beautiful or not. All he could sense was the feeling of power and familiarity.

 

Her voice was honey and broken glass on his ears. _One-named-Boo-Seungkwan,_ she sang to him. The layered overtones of the music made him think of the monks he had seen with Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ , multi-toned and multi-phased. It hurt his mind to think of the idea of sound as three-dimensional, a complex crossing of pitch, timbre and knowledge. _You-have-healed-and-grown-in-wisdom._

 

“I have,” he said, and wondered how hideously flat it sounded to her, like the scraping of sandpaper on cardboard.

 

_You-see-the-truth-one-named-Boo-Seungkwan. Are-you-opening-the-old-paths? Two-wanderers-detected._

Seungkwan tilted his head, trying to shake the feeling that he was speaking to a machine of some sort. “No,” he said doubtfully. “I think you mean my _hyung_. His name is Lee Seokmin. I think…” He swallowed and tried to smile. “I think his destiny is finally showing up, _noona_ , but I don’t know if it’s safe. I don’t know the future.”

 

_Time-is-lower-order-dimensionality-one-named-Boo-Seungkwan. The-only-variable-you-must-consider-is-hope._

“I… I think I understand,” he managed to get out. “I’ll try, noona. Um, if my halmeoni is there, please tell her that everything worked out between myself and Hansol if she doesn’t know, and tell her I love her, please?”

 

_She-knows-one-named-Boo-Seungkwan. Will-you-step-through? Your-heritage-permits._

 

Seungkwan shook his head slowly and gave a step back. “No, noona, there’s nothing there for me yet. Perhaps one day. Right now though, right now I have to help.” He gave another step back, then a third, and watched as she dipped her head and the gate disappeared. Turning, he looked at Hansol’s thin-lipped face and managed a gentle smile. “Everything I want is right here and now.”

 

His soulmate didn’t say anything, but something about his expression eased, became a little more confident.

 

Together they wandered to the small group in the forest, most of them staring at the arch that supposedly led into Bukhansan.

 

The queen had her hands on the arch, eyes closed with concentration, and Jiminie- _hyung_ was standing right next to her, staring without seeing. In the skies above them, forming a square almost so large he couldn’t see all the points, the supernatural animals hung: Tae- _hyung_ to the west, Kookie- _hyung_ to the east, Soonyoung- _hyung_ towards the south, and Jihoon- _hyung_ somewhere beyond sight towards the north, if he had to make a guess.

 

“I can feel it,” the queen muttered quietly. “Listen, Jiminie. Can you hear it? Do you remember _Seollal_? How the wards went up then?”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ nodded blindly, as if his attention was miles away. “I can feel it,” he answered. “It’s as if the land is alive? I can hear the _sansimdeul_ roaring and shouting. I’ve never come across anything like this.”

 

“Someone has roused the land,” the queen said as she stepped back from the gate. “The last time that happened was over two millennia ago. I could still have taken the wards back if I were inside, but there isn’t a prayer in Heaven that can manage it with so much power going on. We’re going to have to crack it like an egg. It’s not a method I want to espouse, particularly...” She braced against the gate as an earthquake started to shake the area, making the trees tremble violently. “…but we don’t have much time.”

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s jaw worked. “There are still mundanes in the park,” he muttered. “The caretakers if no-one else. If we crash it back to normal space now, they’ll die.”

 

A whisper of movement stirred towards one side, and Seungkwan saw Minghao- _hyung_ ’s pale face step forward. “There’s a weak point in the matrix,” he said nervously as Jun- _hyung_ murmured to him. “The only one I can think of, but it’s risky.”

 

The queen’s eyes flashed gold in the dark, clearly irritated. “Do tell,” she muttered.

 

“The Celestial Gate,” Minghao- _hyung_ said. “It… um, if they’re not coming in through one of the other entrances, it stands to reason that they’re getting in there somehow. Might that be where the power is going to? Gates like that require so much power it might very well be enough to cancel out your draw on the pathways. I’m not sure how we missed that in Beijing, there should have been people drumming for hours…”

 

“But we do know,” Jun- _hyung_ murmured in a tired, faded voice.

 

“The same way a pathway was opened to the Land of Crows once,” Rea-ssi murmured in a resonant voice. “With enough blood and the sacrifice of an innocent’s power, one can do barbaric things.”

 

“I’m sure you’d know all about that, _Abeonim_ ,” the queen shot back. “And to get my land back, I would sacrifice you in the blink of an eye, but I doubt you’d qualify as innocent anymore.”

 

“Or alive,” he said, smile ironic at her sharp words. “But no.”

 

“If all you need is a gate opened,” Hansol finally said, “then can’t Jiminie- _hyung_ and Seungkwan- _hyung_ reroute the one in the temple?”

 

It was difficult to see in the darkness, especially with the blood moon’s light, but Seungkwan fancied he could hear heads turning towards his soulmate. “Hansolie?” he got out. “What do you mean?” He paused. “What do you see?”

 

Hansol’s gaze found him blindly. “The gates aren’t magic,” he tried to explain. “It’s… I don’t know the language. You’re not looking at two sides of a fixed coin. If you can make the gate at the temple the other side of the one Minghao- _hyung_ is talking about, and you use the correct skeleton key, you can just open it. It’s not difficult. It’s…“ Blinking, he broke off. “You both have good voices,” he finally said weakly.

 

“Preposterous,” Rea-ssi scoffed. “If it had been that easy, I would have been free a long time ago. The gods know I tried enough.”

 

Seungkwan bristled, stepping forward. “If he says it’s true, then it _is_. Are you an oracle? No? I didn’t think so, Rea-ssi.”

 

“He’s right,” Yoongi- _hyung_ muttered from the shadows.

 

“ _Hyung_ …” Jimin- _hyung_ murmured. “I don’t think…”

 

“You can, Jiminie,” Yoongi- _hyung_ refuted. “Seungmin-ah once said that the Han River would still itself if you told it to, and he was right. So if Hansol-ah thinks this can work, I’ll trust in your power. You and Seungkwan-ah. Remember what you told Jungkookie? ‘ _Hyung_ will always come for you’, you said. Well, there are two boys in there that need their _hyung_ right now.”

 

It was like magic. Seungkwan watched as Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s form still, and he stared as he slowly straightened. He felt Hansol squeeze his hand before he let go, and he watched as Jiminie- _hyung_ ’s eyes shifted, going from warm brown to a gold so intense it was like a sun’s heart. It felt exactly like dawn over Seongsan Ilchubong, so bright his eyes wanted to water, but so welcome after the long night and the cold.

 

“Come on, Seungkwanie,” he said sweetly. “We’ve got a gate to unlock.”

 

=================================================

 

Lee Jihoon was by no means a guy that held grudges for very long, not like some of his other band members. Still, where he hung in the air buoyed aloft by magic that Kookie- _hyung_ had lent him, he couldn’t help but feel irritated. Quite aside from the gigantic Kumamon for Yoongi- _hyung_ , he had been enjoying himself on the date with Soonie. He was different away from the crowds he hammed for: still funny, but a bit more serious, free enough just to enjoy himself. What with the way their popularity was going, it might very well have been the last time they could be alone in public at an amusement park.

 

He bit his lip and tried to forget about it as he felt the magic reach for him, singing through his being. He wasn’t strong enough yet to add his own, but Tae- _hyung_ had explained that he was the most grounded of the four of them, the best to fill in Namjoon- _hyung_ ’s quarter. Still, it tickled at him even in _imugi_ form, and passed through him like a gentle, inexorable breeze. The _hyungdeul_ were being very delicate with them.

 

He hung above the north gate as far as he knew, though he had never met the people that stayed there and kept it. He felt the magic reach through him though, down into the gate and anchoring there like an angler that had set his hook perfectly. On the breeze he heard fox maidens laugh, saw as Tae- _hyung_ unfurled his giant illusion, and wondered at the perfection of it. Being in the middle he could hear the earthquakes and feel the moans of the earth from one side, but could also see the still, serene scene of ‘normal’ Bukhansan on the other side.

 

 _Jihoon-ah_. The voice reached him, implacable as a mountain but gentle with it as well, as if infinite power delicately held his soul. _Jihoon-ah, you are in place?_

 

Namjoon- _hyung_.

 

_Yes, hyung. I could feel the magic Tae-hyung sent anchor into the ground. Are you still in Sweden?_

 

_We are, the presentation is going to last for at least another two hours. Jihoon-ah, I want you to close your ears and listen. Something is wrong down there beyond the invasion. The forest is trying to scream at me, but it’s too faint to hear. I’m going to need you to be my ears, Jihoon-ah, can you do that?_

_I’m a producer, hyung, I’ve got the best ears in the business._

He felt the slight amusement at that, and what followed next defied description a little. He listened, but not in a direction that made sense on the compass. Instead, he felt another soul (older, wiser, massively more powerful) cluster close to his and show him the trick. Together they listened to the land, and when he heard it he couldn’t unhear it. The land _was_ screaming, not with pain, but with fear – fear for someone it didn’t know well, that didn’t know what it was doing, and was killing himself.

 

The land gave them the vision: a high mountain terrace with ghosts swarming a single figure under whilst stone golems from the mountain lumbered up the steps, whilst the trees _grew_ themselves up the mountain to find and help him. Spirits clustered thick, standing in a solid wall behind him with their power going into a tiny, glowing figure in the midst of all the madness. Wonwoo- _hyung_ was shining like a spark from a star, actinically bright.

 

Jihoon didn’t have to feel Namjoon- _hyung_ ’s shock and sadness to realise that something was very wrong.

 

 _People… people don’t shine like that,_ he stammered out in the link between them. _Hyung, what’s going on?_

 

 _He’s dying,_ Namjoon- _hyung_ said gently but firmly. _That’s what it looks like when someone takes on too much and burns with it. When you get in, go to him immediately. Perhaps we can do something. It won’t be too long now._

Far below them the gigantic dome started ringing with song, and Jihoon nearly fell from the sky with shock.

 

_Hold the illusion, Jihoon-ah. That’s all you can do until you’re inside. Hold firm._

===================================================

 

Chan hung back as everyone left the apartment, watching as the last three disappeared off the balcony on the road graven in the sky. Only when everyone was away did he breathe out and turn towards the corner he had been aware of ever since the incident earlier.

 

From it, unfolding from smoke tinged a dark, pearlescent shade, a girl stepped with her arms wrapped around a baby. The baby was very quiet, seemingly asleep, and the girl’s eyes were solemn and tired, but focused on him with laser accuracy. She only gave a few steps forward, but it was enough to make a smile appear on one corner of his mouth.

 

“How long have you known?” he asked as he wandered closer to Yue, one hand lifting to gently press on Soomi’s pate. “That I wasn’t what I thought I was.”

 

“Ever since I saw you the first time,” his girl answered with her ruined voice, soft and smoky-sweet, but still hiding golden depths inside. “I didn’t know precisely what you were, but you didn’t smell human, and you were one of the few people I know that didn’t make me want to shiver my skin off from all the dirt on them. And here you are, a _girin_.” She attempted a smile. “I had to leave, I hope you understood. If I didn’t, you’d never have gotten to this point, though I didn’t know it then.”

 

Chan nodded. “I wouldn’t have had the courage to stand on my own two feet and take the steps I needed to take,” he murmured. “I needed to grow up.”

 

“Chan-ge…” she started, and fell silent with a tired sigh. “Do you still have the dagger and the fan I gave you? You’re going to need them. There are people inside the dome that’s going to need them, and I can’t go in there again, I barely got out this time. I’m too tired.”

 

Chan’s heart thumped uneasily, but he crossed to his gym bag and hauled out his treasures.

 

“You can still make the road,” she said solemnly as she turned to look out of the window. “Or you can still make the dome. But you can’t make both. Both have people that are precious to you.”

 

“I have people right here that are precious to me,” he whispered.

 

He saw her swallow, saw her eyes fill with tears, and felt her hand as it reached to touch his chest. Gently, very gently, she passed the last of her power to him. “Your _hyung_ will need that. You’ll see, when you see him. Go and help them.”

 

It was only the second hug that he gave her, arms still gentle around her and Soomi, and he didn’t look back as he left. It took him some time to get to the others in the forest, right as Jiminie- _hyung_ and Seungkwan- _hyung_ began singing, and he pulled Jun- _hyung_ over to the side. He looks so very tired and heart-broken, and Minghao- _hyung_ not much better, but both of them arched their eyebrows as he reached to press the fan into Jun- _hyung_ ’s hands. “For you,” he said. “I don’t need it anymore.”

 

They stared as he passed by them, approaching Seungcheol- _hyung_ where he clustered with Jisoo- _hyung_ and Jeonghan- _hyung_. “For you, _hyung_ ,” he said as he lay the fang-dagger into his eldest _hyung_ ’s hands. “I don’t need it anymore, but you’re going to need it in there. It’ll protect you. Just trust her, okay? Listen to her and trust her.”

 

The fang-dagger slipped as easily from his hands as the fan did, and he felt the rightness of it, as if something approved of his choices.

 

Beside them, the noise from the temple escalated until it sounded as if there were languages being invented, songs sung that had never been sung. Everyone was dazed; Seungkwan- _hyung_ looked totally out of it, supported and Jiminie- _hyung_ … Jiminie- _hyung_ shone like a star.

 

He saw the precise moment that the gate connected, saw Yoongi- _hyung_ lift his head to stare at him, and reached forward between them with a wish in his hand, slamming it into the opening energy-matrix.

 

The power clicked, turned into something that could _turn_ , and punched through the last of the wards, dissolving them like acid on flesh. A giant wave of energy unleashed, sucked them all in, and spat them out on Bukhansan’s highest terrace

 

Chan skittered to a halt, knees slamming through pools of blood, and looked up into a filmy, horrified face.

 

“Channie,” Mingyu- _hyung_ got out. “Channie, oh my god.”


	48. Chapter 48

Chan stared at the devastation before him, distantly aware of the others stumbling to a halt behind him. It was a lot to take in, from the way that Mingyu- _hyung_ looked filmy and ghostly, to the way he could see his body bled out across an intricate array, to what looked like a tiny, dying star being mobbed by a handful of ghosts. Beyond that small star he could see other ghosts passing through and around golems, diving into the forests of Bukhansan in search of the courtiers that shrieked faintly. In the air above them, hanging on a path of bloodlit moonlight, figures walked, already so small they were practically invisible.

 

"Mingyu... _hyung_?" he asked in a broken voice, horribly aware that he was stepping in his _hyung_ 's blood, smearing it all over on his old sneakers. He stumbled to the side as Yoongi- _hyung_ helped him out of the way, was distantly aware that his heart was going overtime.

 

Areum- _yeosang_ pulled herself upright from where she had fallen in the gate-merge and roared, jumping into the air. Midway she turned into her huge _gumiho_ form, and the mountains rang with the sound of her howling. From above, his four _hyungdeul_ came after the illusion spell took hold, Jihoon- _hyung_ 's hissing rage booming descant above Jungkook- _hyung_ 's basso profundo roar. He watched his smallest _hyung_ dive towards the ghosts and the tiny star, confused for a moment, before his face paled.

 

Wonwoo- _hyung_. It was Wonwoo- _hyung_ shining like a star, as if he had stripped his soul bare to channel the power he held. Even his uneducated eye could see that the load was far too massive for him -- Jiminie- _hyung_ was already running in that strange slipstream manner of his, but it wasn't fast enough. He could see the soul-light guttering out from here, could see the despair on Jiminie- _hyung_ 's face, and his mind clicked.

 

His _hyung_ wasn't just glowing because he channeled so much energy. He was glowing because he had gone straight through his mortal limits, because he was burning life in an effort not to fail in his rage. Somehow, somewhere, his _hyung_ had decided that it didn't matter whether he lived or died, and as he looked at the horrified look on Mingyu- _hyung_ 's face, he thought he understood.

 

Deep inside him power stirred, thick like golden honey, and revealed a little bit of cool, shadowy power, the last hope the last naga could bestow. It wasn't much, not much at all, but as he slipped forward it carried him through the space between them. Between one moment and the next, he simply disappeared and reappeared at Wonwoo- _hyung_ 's side, bowling straight through the ghosts as he slammed his hand down on Wonwoo- _hyung_ 's heart.

 

The power running through his mortal _hyung_ 's body screamed as he shouldered the tremendous burden. It fell on him like the weight of a mountain, but even as he grunted and collapsed, he managed to catch his _hyung_ , holding him tight with bloodied hands.

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ was there in the next moment, speaking a word that rang against the mountains as well, scattering the ghosts that threatened. "Hold on!" he yelled through the ringing of power in Chan's ears. "Hold on, Channie!"

 

Something happened before he could open his mouth. The power stuttered like a blinking light before it chose an easier path out: linking to the blood on his hands, finding a soul that could not feel pain as they both did, the land shuddered and gave up the last of its control, and the rest of the power in Bukhansan slipped from the _sansim_ 's hands. He screamed at the sudden lash of fire, felt Wonwoo- _hyung_ shuddering and panting underneath him as Jiminie- _hyung_ tried to heal him. Beyond them, in Jun- _hyung_ 's arms, Mingyu- _hyung_ lit up as well, brighter and brighter still, as the array beneath him burst into golden flame.

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ screamed something to his Chinese _hyungdeul_ as Soonyoung- _hyung_ touched down next to them, and as he placed his hand on Chan's back the pain left. Everything left, until he was left with a vast red-gold space behind his eyes and Jin- _hyung_ 's voice in his ears.

 

 _Channie._ Jin-hyung, speaking distantly.

 

_Hyung? What's going on, hyung, why can't Jiminie-hyung stop the power?_

 

_Can I explain later? Right now I need you to help me save Wonwoo-ah and Mingyu-ah. Soonyoung-ah can only hold the link so long, and... ah. Brace yourself._

 

Another hand touched his shoulder, and a voice as deep as the ground sounded in his other ear. _Channie._

 

Namjoonie- _hyung_. It felt like a second mountain hit him. He had never thought the gentlest of his _hyungdeul_ was this strong. It was the power of deep earth, the strength of mountains, overlaid with the brilliant fire of Jin- _hyung_ 's presence.

 

 _This is what I need you to do._ A picture of a golden knot tied through two pieces of red string, snarling them together, using one as anchor for the other. A body below that, a strange composite of cells and marrow and little globules he could faintly remember from science. The vaguest impression of something else, a template he needed to use, something that would stop the crazy flow of power, knot it down and stabilise it. His mind struggled to hold it all, eyes lost in a sensory maze.

 

He vaguely understood, felt the two reach through him somehow to the souls of those beyond. There was a moment of confusion, a beating of hope fluttering against his mind like twinned butterflies moving through an abandoned, gutted amusement park.

 

_All your power, Channie. Now._

 

Jiminie- _hyung_ plucked his hands off Wonwoo- _hyung_ and scrambled back, leaving the three of them there. Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Jihoon- _hyung_ , working in concert like only trained musicians could, and gave him enough power to press forward, to flood the link that beat through Mingyu- _hyung_ 's blood, through Wonwoo- _hyung_ 's stuttering heart. It called spirit back to flesh in a genuine divine miracle, changed the spirits, changed the _bodies_ until they were capable of sustaining that much power, using the power of the land with the three of them to speed changes he didn't realistically understand, but instinctively approved.

 

Wonwoo- _hyung_ changed underneath his hand, body changing to fit the template that Namjoon- _hyung_ and Jin- _hyung_ passed through him. He didn't know where it came from, whether from old knowledge or another source, but change his _hyung_ it did, refining his features, making him shimmer. From the shouts in the distance, the same was happening to Mingyu- _hyung_. His girl's knot held, morphed into a true bond, stabilised a pathway for the last of the energy to settle into harmoniously.

 

His consciousness guttered out at the last, and his last thought as he went into darkness was peace. He had finally protected someone, made something _better_.

 

                                                                                          ========================================

 

Jimin snatched his hands back as the body beneath them started to glow again, warned by Yoongi's shout. He had been too deep, trying to at least knit too-damaged flesh. Now, staring at the miracle before him, he didn't quite know what to say. Lee Chan glowed with the energy of the Four Beasts; he could sense Namjoonie- _hyung_ and Jinnie- _hyung_ take over, pushing instructions and power over a vast distance through their proxies. Behind them, Tae-Tae was doing something as well, and Jungkookie stabilised their link, held all of them on that boundless, bottomless stubborn willpower of his.

 

As he watched, Wonwoo-ah's face reshaped, momentarily turning into a copy of Tae-tae before it reshaped, turned back into its own shape. He gaped at the gem growing in Wonwoo-ah's bloody hands, heard a curse from China Line as the same happened.

 

He had been beating his head against the power, trying to take it, to guide it away and help the dying live. He would never have thought of using it instead, turning them into _gumiho_. Wonwoo-ah's eyes refined just a little, his jaw acquired the same perfection as Tae-Tae's, and nine tails grew, flailing in the air like fingers of energy.

 

It was a grand working he had never even thought of, easily on the level of what his gift had done to Jin- _hyung_. Staring over his shoulder, he saw Mingyu-ah sit up as well, tails in similar disarray as he frantically felt at his chest, searching for the wound that had once killed him. Minghao-ah was talking very fast, and Jun-ah stood over them both with fierce eyes, calling and releasing spirits with a kind of grim, fulminating anger.

 

" _Hyung_ ," Hansol-ah's voice trembled. " _Hyung_ , if we don't leave now, we're going to be too late."

 

He blinked and turned his attention to the two that stood at his elbow. Seungkwan-ah was white with shock and Hansol-ah not doing much better; the latter pointed up at the sky towards the blood-red path starting to frizz out.

 

"It's time," Hansol-ah said again, eyes totally white as he focused somewhere else. "If we don't leave now, all of them will fall."

 

"Go," Yoongi murmured. "I'll help support the path as long as I can and protect our kids staying behind." He lifted his hand, manifested the black-bone gakgung into it, along with a trio of arrows, silvery as moonlight. Handing them over, he stepped back, making way for Seventeen's _hyung_ line, who tried to stare him down as covered in blood as they were.

 

"Cheollie is going with," Jeonghan murmured. "Joshuji and I are staying here to help with mop-up. _Hyung_ , please..."

 

"I'll protect them," Jimin muttered as he reached to pull Seungcheol-ah onto the carmine path, holding him there by strength of will alone. "Seungkwanie, lead Hansol-ah. It's like he said, there's likely not much time remaining."

 

Looking at Yoongi for the last time, filled with wordless love, he turned and started to walk on the longest path.

 

                                                                                          ========================================

 

Jun finished dispatching the last of the ghosts that had threatened their little area of land and looked as the trees and golems shuddered and stilled. He could feel the power in the land shifting, passing back into the queen's hands. He breathed a deep, shuddering breath and turned to look at Hao-Hao and Mingyu-ah, tilting his head at the very obviously supernatural slant of eyes and features, not to mention slightly pronounced fangs and nine roan-red tails that lay limply over Hao-Hao's lap like a blanket.

 

"You've never looked better," he tried to jest past the ache in his heart. "Hao Hao, you've got a rival."

 

" _Hyung_ , no..."

 

He straightened as footsteps shifted behind them, but relaxed when he spotted Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_.

 

"Junnie," Jeonghan- _hyung_ said tiredly. "Can you go on? I'm still picking up courtiers all through the forests, being hunted down by ghosts. The queen is cleaning up, but she can't force them from this plane. You can. I'll be at the palace to coordinate, and Joshuji is going to go with Yoongi- _hyung_ to try and get outside help. Tae- _hyung_ and Kookie- _hyung_ can't do much, they're carrying the illusion at the moment."

 

Jun didn't need to close his eyes to see the procession of spirits wander past him. How his family had defiled them, bound them to eternal slavery. "I..." he croaked. "Yes, _hyung_ ," he said obediently. Moments later he felt Minghao's hand in his empty one.

 

"We will," his friend said. "I have some power left too."

 

Yoongi- _hyung_ idled up from where he had been talking to Wonwoo-ah, Soonyoung-ah and Jihoon-ah tossed over his shoulders as the new gumiho cradled Chan close. "We'll meet up in two hours at the castle. Yell if you need assistance."

 

Between the lot of them, they managed to get everyone passed out loaded onto shoulders before the procession set out down the terraces to the palace. Jun- _hyung_ waited, clinging to a staff, until they were away before his knees crumpled and he sank down to hunker for a moment, regaining his breath.

 

Minghao reached out to flick fingers through his sweaty hair. " _Shǎguā_ ," he accused fondly. "You should have told them you were tired. No one would have blamed you."

 

"I would have blamed myself," Jun got out, taking a deep breath so that he could straighten.

 

Minghao tilted his head as he stared at him. "You wanted to know why I refused to let Jimin- _hyung_ remove my link to you," he said at length, reaching out to help Jun up. "Have you figured it out yet?"

 

Jun wearily looked at him, trying to think beyond the shitty day, the ruin of old ideals and beliefs. Minghao wavered in front of him like a shade, then solidified as the younger boy bled some energy back into his system. "No," he murmured against the burgeoning warmth flushing through him.

 

" _Xīngān_ ," Minghao said. "South Korea really has made your brains sloppy."

 

Previously, no matter how much they had cuddled or shared body heat, no matter how much Jun had dreamt or fantasized or teased, Xu Minghao had always kept a last wall up, kept to a modicum or reserve. Now, at his lowest, with zero chance to protect his heart, his best friend leant closer and kissed him softly, slowly, almost hesitantly. It echoed in the warmth between them, let him feel the secret depths of Minghao's heart, and he understood at long last.

 

Xu Minghao loved him, not as a best friend, but as the person he wanted to spend life together with, from his silly lunacy to his moments of strength. Not because he had finally freed his family from their curse, but because it was the final step in a long road of tiny decisions made every day, patiently and carefully, in the way that only Xu Minghao made them.

 

His breath burst out on a sob as the feeling of that love settled in his heart, and he reached out wildly to rake him closer into a hug, squeezing his almost-too-thin frame. "I love you too," he muttered against his neck, and heard his Hao Hao's breath snarl likewise. "So much. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you proud."

 

"I know," Minghao said. "I know, xīngān."

 

                                                                                          ========================================

 

Jisoo was tired. He felt beaten down by recent circumstances.

 

Trudging at the end of the queue formed by Yoongi- _hyung_ , Wonwoo-ah and Hannie, he tried to keep up. Here and there, as Hannie whispered to him to check how cute Wonwoo-ah’s tails looked, he managed a smile, but on the whole he felt drained. The palace was deserted as they passed into the family quarters, past the nursery, around the bend into Tae- _hyung_ ’s quarters.

 

“Come on,” Yoongi- _hyung_ murmured as they laid the three unconscious guys on the wide bed. “I’ll show you how to run a mobile command post, Jeonghan-ah. Wonwoo-ah, take a nap. Jisoo-ah… will you be okay here watching over them? Everyone’s out there, no one should bother you in here, and I don't want to leave them alone."

 

Mind seduced by the thought of sitting down, even though he had not done much that day, Jisoo nodded and watched them leave, smiling at the look in Hannie’s eyes as he lingered for a moment more, then pulled the door shut behind himself.

 

Wonwoo-ah, perhaps too tired to speak, just curled up around Mingyu-ah and closed his eyes. Beyond them, Soonyoung-ah and Jihoon-ah lay still knocked out, drained by whatever they did. Right at the end, Channie lay, white as bleached wheat, but breathing slowly and evenly.

 

He breathed out explosively as he pulled a chair closer to the bed and fumbled his phone out of his pocket, intent on playing a little music for a calming atmosphere. “Nae moseubi boiji anha, apgildo boiji anha…” he sang as he went through his Spotify playlist, mind humming around a song Jihoon-ah had wanted to write a cover for. “Naneun aju jageun aebeolle…”

 

The door to the suite opened and he looked up, frowning. “Did you guys forget… something…” His words petered out as the man slowly entered the room. He was dressed to the nines in the kind of outfit a Chinese period drama actor would have worn, with a white-embroidered yellow veil draping across his face. Every part of him seemed bloody, from splashes on the mask to great blotches on his robes, as if he had waltzed through a sea of death. The sword in his right hand dripped blood in a smoke-sizzle, defiling the priceless carpet underneath his feet.

 

There was no hint that he could see, but his head followed as Jisoo’s breath caught in his throat. A movement underneath the mask suggested a small smile.

 

“Step aside,” the man whispered in highly accented tones, each one echoing hollowly. “I have no truck with you, mongrel, just the beasts behind you.”

 

Jisoo swallowed, thought of his five _dongsaengdeul_ behind him, all of them passed out and without protection. The man could kill him without a sweat. He’d present absolutely no problems, he knew that to the depths of his being. Still..

 

“No,” Hong Jisoo said, and his phone thudded to the floor as he spread his arms in front of his _dongsaengdeul_. “Not as long as I live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. And so the beginning of the end arrives. 
>   2. It takes a lot of people to save poor Mingyu and Wonwoo, but save them they do! 
>   3. Four of our heroes disappear on the Blood Path into the Land of Crows to prevent something only Hansol can see. 
>   4. Yoongi the general makes another comeback. It makes sense to have a telepath of remarkable range running your communications, especially with people so spread out throughout the park. 
>   5. Jun and Minghao finally get together! 
>   6. 'Shǎguā' is an endearing way of calling someone a dummy, and 'xīngān' translates to 'heart and liver'. It might sound a bit gruesome, but you can't live without either. It's like the 'heart and soul' of Western culture. It's absolutely intimate, and you'll generally not hear Chinese people using the latter where others can hear. 
>   7. Jisoo suffers from too many things happening too quickly. Throughout this story he's been the strong one that consoled others, or talked them into talking about their problems, all without a break, and that can make you as tired as if you've run a marathon. 
>   8. The lyrics come from 'I'm a butterfly', which is a cover they did, and it was also sung by all the '97-liners. 
>   9. Enter Ao Guang's son, stage left. 
>   10. Jisoo has to make the most difficult choice of his life. 
> 



	49. Chapter 49

_Ice is for death and endings._

 

The words churned over and over in Seokmin's mind, taunting him, sapping his courage. He wasn't a very brave guy, and watching the stars in the sky slowly change to something else only reminded him that he hated heights. He didn't know how to use a sword either, and now here he was with one in his hand, marching off like he was going to save the princess. It sounded like the kind of story that Mingyu-ah would read guiltily with no one else to see him.

 

If Mingyu-ah ever read anything other than _manhwa_.

 

"It's not far now," Hobi- _hyung_ said beside him, chin-jerking to the blood moon hanging huge and full. At his side, Seulgi-noona let out a disgusted snort.

 

There was a gate, Seokmin realised, painted almost the same colour as the moon. It was simple, nothing like Bukhansan's, but as he stepped through it everything blurred, depositing him in the worst room he had ever seen.

 

There were tiny corpses everywhere, what looked like a million mangled birds. The sword in his hand pulsed, happy and eager, and he had to turn his head around not to get sick. It didn't help; the only clear path through the little corpses had blood on it, old splatters and new alike.

 

"Jiminie," Seulgi- _noona_ growled. "I smell Jiminie, and the girl, and something rank."

 

Hobi- _hyung_ paused a moment to look around. "They were here a few years ago, as you know," he said quietly. "They came here to ... well, it's not important, but they nearly died. This place has been the locus to a lot of blood being spilled." He walked forward through the drifts of feathers and tiny bones, ignoring the way they curled and danced into the air at his movement. "It's sad. It's a lovely place, when you look beyond the bones."

 

Again the sword pulsed, urging Seokmin forward through the dead birds. He walked down the hallway like a zombie, fighting the feeling that the place was trying to tell him something. That there was something he was missing because he was too dumb, too much of a coward.

 

It didn't take them long to find fresher blood. The splatters led to a set of mangled bronze doors propped open, and through it he could hear singing, high and lovely and heart-breaking. _Sora-ssi_. The singing almost covered two voices slowly talking to each other.

 

Hobi- _hyung_ pushed him back, and Seulgi- _noona_ did the same, craning their heads together to look through the gap between the doors. Seokmin, feeling faintly indignant, manoeuvred to peek through as well, and immediately wished he hadn't.

 

The room beyond was entirely trashed, almost rent asunder by some huge fight. There had been a fire once, it seemed, because there were charred feathers everywhere, and the largest set of wings he had ever seen in his life, scorched down to what looked like singed bone and wilting black feathers. The wings formed a desecrated throne, but that wasn't the worst bit, not the worst at all. The ends of the wings, where they had been torn out of the sockets, were still bleeding sluggisly, and there was a woman kneeling in it, sketching out something arcane.

 

The blood flowed through the design and out, running up to the huge round window that looked out. In the middle of it, pinned like a butterfly, Sora-ssi hung, singing as if her heart was breaking. He wasn't sure what it was that she was singing, but it sounded multilayered and complex, as if it was more a language being spoken than mere sound. The moon shone huge through the window past her, hanging perfectly framed.

 

The feathers of the woman in white's robe was bloody and vivid, whilst the other one leant to the side without a drop on her, fingers toying with a slim spear.

 

"You may as well come in," she said idle moments later. "We can hear you. I..."

 

Seokmin had thought that Soonyoung- _hyung_ was fast, but he had nothing on the way the two supernaturals at his side exploded. Hobi- _hyung_ was inside in a flash, charging towards the woman kneeling in the middle of the array. Seulgi-noona changed into a cat in that same time, pouncing on the woman with the spear. His heart cheered; it looked as if they would win, and he took a happy breath as he stepped in through the gap, hoping to sneak around to Sora-ssi.

 

He was perhaps halfway through the door when Hobi- _hyung_ impacted off the mangled door beside him, tearing it fully from its hinges and skittering down the corridor. Above it all, the snap-snap of his legs breaking.

 

His courage shattered underneath the feline scream as the spear spun and sunk into Seulgi- _noona_ 's shoulder. The woman spun and flicked her away as if she was _nothing_. She followed it up with a flick, neatly getting rid of dark blood on the blade of it, and turned her gaze to Seokmin.

 

He tried to flee. He _did_ , unequal to the challenge, but the sword in his hand refused to move, pulling him forward into the room instead. It glinted ominously in the pink-hued light, and the woman with the spear halted as she saw it. "Ahh..." she breathed out slowly, skewed smile turning mocking. "I see we have a hero there. Well, I guess that means I'll have to be serious."

 

Seokmin stared as she straightened, then straightened some more, shape changing until 'she' was revealed to be a 'he', a tall man of indeterminate age, as feyly beautiful as Tae- _hyung_. Behind him, bursting like an aureole of fur, nine tails exploded into being, flicking back and forth in a wicked dance.

 

"Stop playing with your food, Yè," the woman in white said quietly as she too straightened. Though she had been kneeling in blood, her gown was still pristine. Her dark eyes focused on him, almond-shaped and lovely, before she eventually gave a sigh. "Do you know why you are here?" she asked him. "I've seen you before. You're the clueless one. The mundane, right?"

 

Seokmin didn't know how to answer that one, especially not with the _gumiho_ staring at him like he was measuring his meal.

 

"Do you even know who she is?"

 

Seokmin cleared his throat. "S...Sora-ssi."

 

"Yes," the woman said. "And then no. At the core, her name is Jen. Once upon a time, she was the spirit of the world before she fell from her throne."

 

"Cast away, just like your love," the _gumiho_ said brightly, poisonously.

 

If looks could kill, the _gumiho_ would have been dead. "And mine," he added sweetly, as if that made everything alright.

 

Seokmin looked between them, the design on the floor and the woman hanging in the circle. Behind him, he could hear metal plink quietly, as well as Seulgi-noona's groan, and frantically tried to plan. What would Yoongi- _hyung_ do? Jimin- _hyung_? Jin- _hyung_? What would... what would Sora-ssi want, was she even sane still, what were they planning?

 

He took a step forward, planning on distracting them. _Ice_ , he chanted in his mind, holding to what Rea-ssi said. _Death and endings. Death, and... and..._

 

"You can have me instead," he forced himself to say as he walked forward. "If it'll end all of this. Don't hurt her anymore. She's not who you think anymore. Please, have a little mercy, okay? We can talk this out, I promise." He edged deeper and deeper, until the moonlight washed over half his face and the sun peeked past Sora-ssi's form to burn blood-red in his eyes. They looked closer, impossibly lured by Sora-ssi's singing.

 

They blinked at him and burst out laughing. The sound rang high and disbelieving, as if they thought him an idiot. Lee Seokmin, the stupid one in Seventeen, the _nice_ one.

 

Somewhere, Seulgi-noona found the strength to dart in again, dashing past him. Behind him, Hobi- _hyung_ was cursing up a storm, trying to stand on his broken leg. Biting the inside of his cheek, he gathered the tattered edges of his courage together and stepped forward, using the sword in his hand to slam the blade down into the array the woman had drawn. It bit into it, just as her sword swung up and around.

 

 _End it_ , he prayed. _End it, end it, end it. You can have my death if you want._

 

He closed his eyes, only to feel a soft, smaller form crash against him. Panicking, he opened his eyes to see a spill of dark black hair across his front. Sora's eyes were no longer vague and unfocused, but keen. He watched as her body slumped down onto the design, heard the woman in white scream with incoherent rage, and then knew nothing more as the energies reacted to explode, scattering his pieces out towards the sun and moon.

 

==================================

 

They had barely stepped into the place when it blew up, energies reacting so violently that he fell against Hansol with a scream. Up became down for a seconds, and when he regained his footing Jiminie- _hyung_ was already running down the hallway with Seungcheol- _hyung_ close on his heels. Grunting, he reached out to haul Hansol and himself up and set to running as well. It was the end, it _had_ to be, no one could take much more of this.

 

Seconds later, stopping abruptly, they nearly fell over the precipice of the ruined building. Jiminie- _hyung_ was off to one side, scooping up Hobi- _hyung_ to start healing him, and Seungcheol- _hyung_ hovered over Seulgi- _noona_ , who was lying very still, at an angle that didn't look natural. There was nothing beyond them, only the still starry landscape and a blood-red pair of celestial bodies, sun and moon closer than they should be, but much weaker.

 

No baddies, no Sora- _ssi_ , no Seokmin- _hyung_. Nothing but the cursing and a proto-gate that was sparking violently, sucking energy in like a malignant wart on the landscape.

 

It was like his fear at facing the bomb, but a thousand times worse. Whatever had slept in his blood loathed the sight, shuddered away from it instinctively. He knew beyond knowing that if it exploded, the universe would have no heat death, it'd just have death, fiery and immediate and all-consuming.

 

"There!" Hansolie yelled behind him, and grabbed the gakgung Jiminie- _hyung_ had dropped, scooping up the silvery arrows in his hands. "I see someone!" Right at Seungkwan's side he knelt and placed arrow to string. From inside him, he could feel the wellspring of power Hansol called from him to be able to pull the bow back, felt his vision go faint, and heard the muted thwack-thwack-thwack beside him.

 

"Hansolie," he managed as his vision cleared up, and he could see the people get pulled up by silvery strings of moonlight tinted a pale oyster-pink. "Hansolie." The malignancy in the nodes in front of him pulsed, echoed in the gem that grew on his forehead. He could feel streamers of light run from it, cradling his features in thin lines of gold, feel the material of his body start to sublimate to sheer energy. "Love."

 

That pulled Hansol's attention to him, and Seungcheol- _hyung_ shouted as he had to lurch to catch the strings that Hansol let go in his panic to get to Seungkwan.

 

"I love you," Seungkwan said simply, so far gone that Hansol's arms closed around sheer energy.

 

"Take me with," Hansol demanded roughly. "Don't fuck around, Seungkwan, take me with you _now_. I might be chill, but I swear to god if you don't take me with you'll find out how un-chill I can be. Damn it! Stop disappearing on me!"

 

Somehow, uncertain how he did it, Seungkwan wrapped his being around Hansol with a laugh, whirling them around into the singularity. _Always. I'll always take you with._

 

He had learnt his lesson.

 

==================================

 

Seungcheol heard cursing behind him as he strained to pull the three lines of power up, shoulders working. His eyes were dry, not because he didn't want to cry, but because he knew if he did anything now, he'd break down and never come up for air again. He worked at it even when Jiminie- _hyung_ came to help him, ash-grey from the effort to heal Hobi- _hyung_ (and Seulgi-noona but he wasn't thinking about that he wasn't he wasn't he wasn't).

 

 When he saw who they dragged over the side he felt like cursing and dropping them. First the woman in white, then a smirking, battered _gumiho_ that made Jiminie- _hyung_ curse like a sailor, then...

 

...ah, god no. Sora- _ss_ i, expression looking peaceful, but her eyes were as dull and dead as Seulgi- _noona_ 's, just half of her, sheared from shoulder to hip with the rest of her gone.

 

Choi Seungcheol didn't think. Instead, with righteous rage igniting in his mind, eyes seeing red, he lunged at the woman in white, dagger in his hand and terrible strength to his bones. The dagger he had gotten from Chan flamed to life, melted in his hand, and sublimated straight into his being. Blessed bone and fat and fangs, given freely, sunk into his core and met the red-hot rage coming up from it, and joined with it, ringing like a thousand bells.

 

A _haetae_ as large as Namjoon- _hyung_ landed on the woman in white, scales shimmering like blood. It was laughably easy to claw the essence of her soul apart, to burn through it with the fire the naga's power had kindled in his soul. One soul, then two, this time that of a _gumiho_ corrupt to his core. They guttered out beneath his claws, and he roared his anger to the universe before he looked back, finding Jiminie- _hyung_ and Hobi- _hyung_ looking at him as if they had seen a miracle.

 

He shrank back, afraid of the wondering look in their eyes.

 

Whining as his rage left him, he limped back to kick Sora-ssi's face, then lay down beside Seulgi- _noona_ , resting his large chin on her unmoving side.

 

 _Goodbye, Sora-ssi_ , he mourned wordlessly. _Goodbye, Seulgi, you damn stupid woman. God save me from brave women._ He didn't even attempt to think of Seokmin-ah. He had failed his band so spectacularly his mind shuddered away from the pain of thinking him dead as well.

 

==================================

 

Jimin didn't want to dare breathe. Choi Seungcheol was a fucking _haetae_. He scooted carefully to get to the circlet that had fallen off when Lian Nishang had died, cradling it in his hands before looking up at where two thirds of the maknae line had disappeared. Grimly, summoning strength he didn't want to, he opened a gate to the five-dimensional space the artefact had come from and threw it in, savagely glad to be rid of it.

 

"Is she..." Hobi- _hyung_ whispered.

 

Jimin nodded and swallowed, pulling a white cloth from nowhere to gently cover Sora-ssi's remains. "I can't sense her spirit anymore. I'm sorry, _hyung_ , I know she was like a daughter to you."

 

"Can you bring her back?"

 

"No, he can’t," answered another voice, low and slow. They looked up to spot Sobyeol, who shimmered into being as he stepped between Jeoseung and the Land of Crows. " _Jeoseung_ will not release her. She deserved her rest. She went back too early this time, and her psyche couldn't bear it. It was a miracle that she woke up enough at the end to even function." He paused. "Neither lifetime had been very kind to Jen."

 

Jimin sunk down on a piece of rubble, scrubbing at his face. "It's going to destroy the others when we tell them."

 

"We're not going to tell them," Hobi- _hyung_ muttered.

 

" _Hyung_...?"

 

Hobi- _hyung_ wearily wiped at his tear-stained face. "Jiminie, whoever she had been in her last life, Choi Sora was worth her dignity in this life. _She was my daughter_. I'll remember her as that if she ever wants to come back. I'm just not sure how we're going to face her father, or Seokmin-ah's father, or the rest of the boys."

 

"Or Muji-ah," Jiminie muttered softly. "It's going to kill Iseul- _nim_."

 

Sobyeol cleared his throat. "About that..." Grimacing, he stepped aside, allowing the filmy shade behind him to be seen, one with the faintest suggestion of oilslick hair and a murderous scowl on her face. "Damn _shisa_ ," he muttered, allowing her to float forward to the broken corpse resting beneath the grieving _haetae_ 's chin. "I... don't look at me like that, nephew, I owed her brother a favour. Besides, she's fucking loud. I don't want her in Jeoseung, tearing up the landscape with that abomination she goes around on."

 

Jimin swallowed thickly, trying not to hope. "And... And Seokmin-ah?"

 

Sobyeol's dark eyes focused on him, then moved to stare at the too-close sun and moon. "That one... well, that one is out of my jurisdiction. His fate is outside our control now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. This chapter was so difficult to write, because I kept crying as I did. Sorry it's so late. This chapter is dedicated to @JlHOOZI on twitter, for helping me through this stumbling block. 
>   2. Manhwa is the korean version of manga, for those that don't know. 
>   3. Please don't think that I'm saying that Lee Seokmin is a coward. I'm not. He's just in an untenable situation. I would have run as well, if I could.
> 



	50. Chapter 50

“Not as long as I live,” Jisoo said, and spread his arms out as the bloodied man dashed forward. This was it, the moment he had always been afraid of since this whole crazy business started. Closing his eyes, he thought of his mother, of Hannie, of joining the band at such a late stage. All of it flashed before his eyes in some kind of perfect montage, even the bad memories lent a glow by understanding. They hadn’t been so bad, after all. Not so bad at all.

 

He felt the tip of the blade grind to a halt as it touched his skin, opened one eye to see what was going on. The man was struggling, straining, but somehow there was a hand that stretched from his chest, holding the blade where it was, declining it further entry into his flesh. Horrified, he looked over his shoulder to where the ghost-man stood that had been in the room with them. Rea, the queen’s father. There had been some kind of bad business but now… here he was? Sticking his hand through his chest as if it were commonplace?

 

There was a fan in the man’s other hand, flicked open and glowing, with what looked like some kind of ancient woodblock print on it. Jisoo could almost feel the power in it, the thrum-thrum-thrum as it beat against his dulled senses.

 

“Ao Di,” Rea-ssi said with a drawl, anger an undercurrent that sharpened it. “In all these thousands of years, haven’t you learnt not to pick on those smaller than you? I would have thought your family learnt that lesson after the last time.”

 

The bloodied man stumbled back, reached up to rake his splattered veil aside and stared at them with narrow, tip-tilted eyes. “Rea,” he spat the name out, like a curse. “You fucking mongrel. After all this time you’re still around? Why won’t you pathetic mortals just catch a hint and die?”

 

 _Boy,_ something whispered in Jisoo’s head. _Boy, I can’t keep him here forever, even with the fan. The naga never swore allegiance to my line, I can’t force it to obey me. I can’t even guide you, I am too far removed from the shores of life and I gave my sword to another._

Jisoo’s mind rebelled. _I’m not leaving them,_ he thought as hard as he could, eyes on the blade straining to get through the hold as the spirit plucked him to and fro to defend. _Rather me._

The spirit snarled in his mind, did something with the fan that formed a barrier, and released him as they tumbled into the moonlight. Beyond them, the other man struggled against the barrier, started to chop it down.

 

“Boy,” Rea-ssi said. “Boy, we do not have _time_. The sun and moon are being pulled away, the end is nearly upon us. I have sworn to redeem myself to my family, but I can’t do this alone! Five unconscious bodies, and just a single boy that doesn’t even know how to use a sword? That’s madness. You are not a simple slave boy that gave his life just to ease a hopeless cause!”

 

“No.” Jisoo said metedly. “It’s not madness. It’s… it’s determination, okay? These are my brothers. I’m not going to leave them to rot here just because some madman still has an axe to grind! Come on, we can try to drag them out of here, or…”

 

The world went silver around him. Rea-ssi stopped speaking, and there came the sound of an amused laugh. Jisoo spun around to find the source, and saw it in a small man sitting on what appeared to be nothing. He was shining like the moon, creating shadows that speckled his features. On his lap there was a bunny, and he was slowly petting its ears. Jisoo swallowed, wondering whether he had finally gone around the bend.

 

“No,” the man said to him easily, voice deep. He looked oddly familiar. “No, you’re not going mad. But you _are_ heading to the end of your mortal life, and Nüwa asked me to help you.”

 

“Nüwa?” Jisoo asked quietly. “Who?”

 

The man tilted his head. “The spirit trapped in the fan. Oh, not the real snake goddess, but part of her bloodline. Once, a very long time ago, as the Iron Banner was sealed, she moved here from the heavens to help repair the world from that fight and the chaos, and her descendents became the naga. Do you remember what her last descendent’s name is?”

 

“Yue,” Jisoo forced out through numb lips. “It’s Yue, I think. Channie’s girl?”

 

"The law of correspondences." The man’s lips curved into a smile as he slowly stroked the rabbit’s head. “The naga had always been protectors,” he lectured. “They tended to live in the deep places of the world, not that they needed to, but they had the power of their foremother. Ancient treasures, holy spots, the gates into other dimensions. Because of her heritage, they move _between_ , and it was said that a naga in their full growth was a terrifying thing, but that children could play with them without fear, and that they’d protect them. They have always been fierce defenders, even when a situation is desperate. Do you get what I’m saying?”

 

“Oh,” Jisoo murmured, feeling his muscles weaken. “Oh.”

 

“You have a choice, Hong Jisoo,” the man said terribly gentle. “Behind you lie five treasures, and ahead of you lies death. You can run, or you can protect. You can’t do both.”

 

Jisoo swallowed. It wasn’t really a choice at all, not when the guys he had helped raise lay behind him. “I’ll take it,” he muttered. “If it’ll help me to protect them, I’ll take it. I just have a single question, if that’s okay?” At the man’s nod, he tilted his head. “Who am I speaking to, that can offer such a thing?”

 

The man threw back his head to laugh and the light splashed on his face, revealing fine, small features achingly familiar. “Ask my brother!” he said as he put the rabbit down on the ground and faded away. “Ask my brother!”

 

The rabbit leapt into his chest, burning as it went, and scorched him out clean with a cool white radiance. It lit the inside of his being, scraped every inch of mortality away, and deposited him back in the future, just as the fan in Rea-ssi’s hand crumbled to nothing. The barrier broke and Rea-ssi lunged forward desperately to stop the blood-splattered dragon, but Ao Di moved straight through him, rending his spirit apart as he closed in on Jisoo.

 

The power in his limbs finished flushing him clean and turned dark as smoke, curling through his being. Jisoo moved without moving, one moment still awestruck and there in the next, and his hand closed around the dragon’s neck with a boom-crack of power. _Unclean,_ the power inside him whispered. _Filth. Exterminate._

_No,_ Jisoo thought back to it. He wasn’t sure how, but as the spear clattered down and the dragon started dancing in his grip, he opened a portal somewhere, where there was a massive cat that looked at him and nodded, and he thrust the man through into the cat’s jaws. The dragon’s despairing howl faded as the portal closed and he dropped his arms, turning to work at his shoulders, easing his joints.

 

Barely a second passed before Jeonghan rounded the corner, running at full speed, and he opened his arms to catch his tall body, embracing him gently. He felt something pass from him to Hannie, and he held him quietly as a tear-wet face pressed against his neck.

 

“I thought you were gone!” Hannie wailed, fisting at the back of his shirt. “I couldn’t find your mind, I thought you were _gone_!”

 

Jisoo smiled gently. “No,” he murmured into his Hannie’s hair. “No, where would I go? I have to protect the boys, right?” He fancied he could hear the moon laughing at him for that, and felt unreasonably amused himself. “Everything’s going to be alright, Hannie, I promise. Come on, no, cheer up…”

 

Above them, as the new naga held his beloved, the moon found strength to pull against the binding trying to annihilate them. _It’s time,_ he whispered to his love. _It’s time. Call the last one home._

 

* * *

 

Seokmin wasn’t quite sure where he found himself. It was light all around him, a strange gilded platinum shade. He wasn’t all there, not in the way that involved bodies and flesh and reality. He was awake as he drifted, and drifted he did until he saw a familiar face waiting for him. Sora-ssi was sitting on nothing, clad in grungy street-wear totally until the gown he had been wearing when he last saw her. She looked up and smiled at him, achingly beautiful with her dark hair straggling around her.

 

“Seokmin-oppa,” she said happily. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

Seokmin wanted to cry, but there wasn’t tears in this place. Instead, he drifted closer until he could take the hand she stretched out towards him.

 

“You mustn’t be sad,” she lectured gently. “This was always my destiny, okay? I had to grow up and pain is a part of growing up, right?”

 

“Are we dead?” he managed to ask. “Is this the afterlife?”

 

“This?” she asked, looking around. “No, it’s not the afterlife. It’s a place in between. Jiminie-oppa’s family let me have a moment before I moved on. I wanted to say goodbye to you.  You’re the only one I can reach still, and I had some things I wanted to say. Is that okay? Will you carry my messages? I'll make it so that you can.”

 

He swallowed and nodded, feeling his heart imploding with the pain of the moment.

 

“Tell Jeonghan-oppa that I always thought he was more beautiful than I was, that I believed that until the last, okay? Tell Jihoon-oppa I said thanks for working with me, and tell Soonyoung-oppa that he will always be my bias, okay? Always, always, even until the stars gutter out. And you…” She swallowed too. “I would have been so happy loving you. It would have… it would have been an honour, and I wanted it, but it wasn’t to be this time around. You have such a bright future ahead of you. Tell Hobi-oppa I loved him too, like a really cool uncle or father, please?”

 

Seokmin pinched his eyes shut, twined his fingers through hers. “Sora-ssi… Sora, this is too cruel, okay?”

 

She bit her lip and nodded. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you had to be at the last, but if there’s one thing I’m proud of in my life as Sora, it was that I was able to save Jisoo-oppa, and that I was able to save you.

 

“Sora,” came a distant voice. “Time.”

 

She looked over her shoulder as if she saw someone there and nodded. “I know, just a moment more, please.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t give you much, Seokmin, but I _would_ have loved you, and because of that I have a gift, okay? You’re the brightest soul I’ve ever seen. You burn so bright. We’ll see each other again. Not like this, but as family. You’ll be happily married by that time, with a slew of kids.” She took a deep breath. “Your first child will be a girl. They’ve promised me… if I make it. Please wait for me. And lastly, please take care of Sehunie for me. Please. I need to…”

 

The air behind her turned red and the voice came again. “Sora! I can’t hold on much longer!” A woman’s voice, high and pure.

 

Seokmin drew in breath, saw her getting torn away from him as the world turned to fire around him. “Sora!” he shouted. “Sora, I love..”

 

There were no more words. Instead, screaming through him like pain, like death and rebirth, rang a sun’s power, and Seokmin’s soul tore apart and reformed. There was a woman screaming with him, a sense of limitless power being pinched shut, torn into a thin rope, until the scream rang from him. Until the fire rang from him as he flashed over straight to a form shaped from a sun’s heart. From a distance he felt familiar touches, and suddenly there were two forms next to him in the inferno.

 

 _::Abjured::_ sang Seungkwan-ah, a shape like energy and not. _::Denied, blocked, shut away!::_

_::Distance::_ came Hansol-ah’s baritone voice. _::Healing. A proper place for all things.::_

 

They sung him straight, until he was once again a form like a man, but with fiery eyes, with the power of one of the great birds of the sun singing celestial eddies in his heart. It was dark around them, and they took him by the hands, moved somewhere else. Their feet touched down on broken rubble and they sank to their knees together. Seokmin couldn’t speak, so tired he couldn’t move, until he looked up at the sun in a young man’s form.

 

“Ha-yunie,” he said, a woman’s joy coming out in his male voice, and saw Jiminie-hyung’s eyes stretch open wide. “I give him to you. Take care of my little phoenix, okay?”

 

“I will,” Jiminie-hyung muttered as he knelt down to wrap his arms around Seokmin. “I will, I promise.”

 

Above them the universe spun, healed by a soul’s sacrifice. Far beyond them, beyond even the gods, Destiny looked in at the happenings and gave a small, skewed smile. Slowly, lifting one hand, she spun a new future for them, bought with all their suffering and pain and growth. “Be at ease,” she whispered over their clean path. “Be at ease.”

 

* * *

 

Thirteen boys met each other at Bukhansan, from their _haetae_ leader to their youngest, the newest _girin._ They were bloody and tattered, some of them, all still adjusting to their new powers. Jeonghan leant unashamedly against a very silent Jisoo, Soonyoung had Woozi in a back-hug and wouldn’t let go. Seungkwan and Hansol were whispering together, Mingyu and Wonwoo were twine around each other, tails flying. China Line were leaning tiredly against each other as Chan scolded them for once, uncaring that they were his hyungdeul.

 

Seokmin swallowed as Seungcheol’s one arm hugged him again, though his other was around a cat as big as a pony, fingers worming through her fur. The both of them kept him upright like some kind of wobbly, wonky pyramid.

 

Off in the distance the queen was crying softly, cuddling her daughter in her arms as Yue-ssi hovered at her elbow. Tae-hyung, Kookie-hyung, and Jiminie-hyung were clustered around Hobi-hyung as he cried as well, shaking with the effort. Yoongi-hyung, one hand on Jiminie-hyung’s back, caught his glance and nodded slowly to him.

 

“She would have loved seeing us together,” he muttered to Seungcheol-hyung as he watched Namjoon-hyung and Jinnie-hyung touch down, carrying Sehun-ah between them. “I think we’re in for a healing time. I get the feeling that things will be back to normal very soon now. I think… I think we’re all going to be together for a long time. She said some things.”

 

“Of all the wishes I ever had,” Seungcheol-hyung said quietly, “the only one I really prayed for was to stay together with you guys. We’ll make it, Seokmin-ah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So, whew, this is the end of this story. I sincerely thank all of you that went through it with me, all fifty chapters of it. It's always such an honour to have people along on a venture of this size. Each of you inspired me to continue writing even when I wanted to give this up badly. I keep throwing words at this thanks, but none of them will ever describe what your support meant to me. 
>   2. There will be no more stories in this universe, unless the longing to tell an epilogue takes me, or I become an idiot and turn what happens next into another story. It's serendipity though; I started this story way back in The Trouble With Destiny, crying over one BTS song, and I end it crying over another one. 
>   3. In the end, they all lived happily ever after. 
> 



End file.
